y 



FaDDg anH M Servant PnmieiD 



BY 



JEROME K. JEROME 




SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th St, New York 



BILLETED. 

A comedy In 3 acts, by F. Tennison Jesse and H. Harwood. 4 males, 
5 females. One easy interior scene. A charming comedy, constructed 
with uncommon skill, and abounds with clever lines. Margaret Anglin's 
big success. Amateurs will find this comedy easy to produce and popular 
with all audiences. Price, €0 Cents. 

NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. 

A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. Cos- 
tumes, modern. Two interior scenes. Plays 2J^ hours. 

Is it possible to tell the absolute truth — even for twenty-four hours? It is— 
at least Bob Bennett, the hero of "Nothing But the Truth," accomplished the 
feat. The bet he made with his business partners, and the trouble he got into— 
with his partners, his friends, and his fiancee — this is the subject of William 
Collier's tremendous comedy hit. "Nothing But the Truth" can be whole-heartedly 
recommended as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies that 
this country can boast. Price, 60 Cents. 

IN WALKED JIMMY. 

A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, 2 females (although 
any number of males and females may be used as clerks, etc.) Two '^ 
interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2J^ hours. The thing into j 
which Jimmy walked was a broken-down shoe factory, when the clerks J 
had all been fired, and when the proprietor was in serious contemplation 
of suicide. 

Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious figure 
had it not been for his matter-of-fact manner, his smile and his everlasting 
humanness. He put the shoe business on its feet, won the heart of the girl 
clerk, saved her emng brother from jail, escaped that place as a permanent 
boarding house himself, and foiled the villain. 

Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just a dash of 
excitement and more than a little bit of true philosophy make "In Walked Jimmy" 
one of the most delightful of plays. Jimmy is full of the religion of life, the 
religion of happiness and the religion of helpfulness, and he so permeates the 
atmosphere with his "religion" that everyone is happy. The spirit of optimism, 
good cheer, and hearty laughter dominates the play. There is not a dull moment 
in any of the four acts. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents. 

MARTHA BY-THE-DAY. 

An optimistic comedy in three acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author of 
the "Martha" stories. 5 males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. Cos- 
tumes modern. Plays 2H hours. 

It is altogether a gentle thing, this play. It is full of quaint humor, old- 
fashioned, homely sentiment, the kind that people who see the play will recall 
and chuckle over tomorrow and the next day. 

Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her very successful book for stage service, 
and in doing this has selected from her novel the most telling incidents, infectious 
comedy and homely sentiment for the play, and the result is thoroughly delightful. 

Price, 60 Cents. 

(The Above Are Sublect to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH* 28-30 West 38th Street. New York City 

Ifew and E^qjllclt Descriptive Catalog:ue Mailed Free on Request 



FANNY AND THE ^ 



Ml 



SERVANT PROBLEM ^^"""^ 



A Quite Possible Play in 
Four Acts 



\a.o-- 



JEROME E; JEROME 



vCOPYRIGHTv 190S, BY SAMUEL FRENCH, liTDu 



CAUTION : — Professionals and Amateurs are hereby warned that *' Fanny 
and the Servant Problem," being fully protected under the copyright laws 
of the United States Government, is subject to royalty, and r.ny one 
presenting the play without the consent of the author, or his authorized 
agent, will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applicaiiion for 
stage rights must be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, 
New York City. 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30WEST 38th STREET 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Stkeet 
STRAND 






Especial notice should be taken that the possession of 
this book without a valid contract for production first 
having been obtained from the publisher, confers no right 
or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play 
publicly or in private for gain or charity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading 
public only, and no performance, representation, produc- 
tion, recitation, or public reading may be given except by 
special arrangement with Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th 
Street, New York. 

This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment 
of a royalty of Twenty-Five Dollars for each perform- 
ance, payable to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, 
New York, one week before the date when the play is 
given. 

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must 
appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the 
play: "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel 
French of New York." 

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for 
any infringement of the author's rights, as follows. 

"Section 4966: — Any person publicly performing or rep- 
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copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the 
proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his 
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such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not 
less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dol- 
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shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and 
representation be wilful and for profit, such person or 
persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon con- 
viction shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one 
year."— U. S. Revised Statutes : Title 60, Chap. 3. 



\ \ 1 Z \ 



Produced at the Aldwych Theatre, London, on 
October 14, 1908, with the following cast: — 

CHARACTERS 

Fanny Miss Fanny Ward 

Vernon Wetherell, Lord Bantock Mr. Leslie Faber 

(Her Husband) 

Martin Bennet Mr. Chas. Cartwright 

(Her Butler) 

Susannah Bennet Miss Kate Phillips 

(Her Housekeeper) 

Jane Bennet Miss Alma Murray 

(Her Maid) 
Ernest Bennet Mr. Benedict 

(Her Second Footman) 
Honoria Bennet Miss Mabel Garden 

(Her Still-room Maid) 

TH. MISS.S W™... {^l^itTomMlson 

(Her Aunts by Marriage) 

Dr. Freemantle Mr. Chas. Sugden 

(Her Local Medical Man) 
**OuR Empire" — 

England 

Scotland 

Ireland 

Wales 

Canada 

Australia 

New Zealand 

Africa 

India 

Newfoundland 

Malay Archipelago . . , 

Straits Settlements. 



Miss Esme Beringer 
Miss Jean Harkness 
Miss Barbara Vivian 
Miss Lydia Flopp 
Miss Margaret Hastings 
Miss Miriam Miner 
Miss Vera Beringer 
Miss May Straker 
Miss Marion Ashley 
Miss Patsy McCtillock 
Miss Steivart Dawson 
Miss Daisy Markham 

George P. Newte M. John W. Dean 

(Her Former Business Manager) 



a, 

S 
o 

B 

a 
x) 
c 
o 

a 



The scene takes place in Fanny's boudoir 
»^iiuvj>v.rv iiali, Rutlandshire. 



« FANNY AND THE SERVANT 
PROBLEM " 

ACT I 

Scene, — Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire, Her boudoir, 
A handsome, well-lighted apartment in the south-west 
wing of the castle, furniture and decorations of the 
Louis XIV period. A deep hay, lighted by three 
high windows facing the south-west, occupies the right 
of the stage. The door at hack R. of fireplace leads 
to Lord Bantock's apartine-nts. The door in L, 
wing leads through her ladyship's dressing-room into 
her ladyship's bedroom. A large Adams fireplace, 
in which a cheerful wood fire burns, occupies the back 
C. Over it is the full length portrait of Constance, 
first Lady Bantock, by Hoppner. The furmture 
is handsome but simple — French with the exception 
of a small upright piano. A large desk faces the 
three windows, a round table between it and the fire- 
place. A settee, backed by a screen, is L., ai an 
angle to the fireplace. Comfortable chairs are in 
plenty. A profusion of early spring flowers decor" 
ates the room. Electric lighting is from sconces 
placed round the walls. 

The Time is sunset of an early spring day. A golden 
light fills the room. 

(The rising of the curtain discovers the Two Miss 
Wetherells — two sweet old ladies who have grown 
so much alike it would be difficult for a stranger to 
tell the one from the other. The hair of both is white, 
they are dressed much alike, both in some soft lavender 
coloured material, mixed with soft lace. The French 
clock on the mantelpiece vjunds in soft musical note 
six strokes.) 



8 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM, 

Elder {hidden in the deep hay of the window). Such 
a lovely sunset, dear. 

(The Younger Miss Wetherell, her back towards 
the spectator, is arranging flowers on the round 
table R.C. She looks round, goes across to the window. 
Her sister comes back a little into the room. The Two 
Old Ladies stand holding each other's hands, looking 
out.) 

Younger. Beautiful ! 

(A silence. The sun is streaming full into the room.) 

You — you don't think, dear, that this room — (sA# 
looks round it) — may possibly be a little too sunny to 
quite suit her ? 

Elder {not at flrst understanding). How, dear, too 

sun {She looks and grasps the meaning.) You 

mean — ^you think that perhaps she — does that sort of 
thing ? 

Younger. Well, dear, one is always given to under- 
stand that they do — ^women — ladies of her — profession. 

Elder. It seems to me so wicked ; painting God's 
work. 

Younger. We mustn't Judge hardly, dear. Be- 
sides, dear, we don't know yet that she does. 

Elder. Perhaps she's young, and hasn't com- 
menced it. I fancy it's only the older ones that do it. 

Younger. He didn't mention her age, I remember. 

Elder. No, dear, but I feel she's young. 

Younger. I do hope she is. We may be able to 
mould her. 

Elder. We must be very sympathetic. One can 
accomplish so much with sympathy. 

Younger. We must get to understand her. (A 
sudden thought.) Perhaps, dear, we may get to like 
her. 

Elder {seems doubtful). We might try, dear. 

Younger. For Vernon's sake. The poor boy 
seems so much in love with her. We must 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. ft 

(Enter Be-^net l. c. He is the ideal butler.) 

Bennet. Doctor Freemantle. I have ahpwn him 
into the library. 

Younger. Thank you, Bennet. Will you please 
tell him that we shall be down in a few minutes. 
I must just finish these flowers. (She returns to the 
table.) 

Elder. Why not ask him to come up here. We 
could consult him — about the room. He always 
knows everything. 

Younger. A good idea. Please ask liim, Bennet, 
If he would mind coming up to us here. 

(Bennet, who has been attending to the needs of the 
■fire, turns to go.) 

Oh, Bennet! 

(He stops and turns.) 

You will remind Charles to put a footwarmer in the 
carriage I 

Bennet. I will see to it myself. 

Younger (as Bennet goes out). Thank you, 
Bennet. (To her sister.) One's feet are always so 
cold after a railway journey. 

Elder. I've been told that, nowadays, they heat 
the carriages. 

Younger. Ah, it is an age of luxury 1 I wish I 
knew which were her favourite flowers. It is so nice 
to be greeted by one's favourite flowers. 

Elder. I feel so sure she loves Hhes. 

Younger. And they are so appropriate to a bride. 
So 

(Enter, announced by Bennet, Dr. Freemantle. 
He is a dapper little man, dean shaven, with quick 
brisk ways.) 

Dr. F. (he shakes hands with the Two Old Ladees). 
WeU. and how are we this afternoon ? iHe feels thA 



10 F'ANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

pulse of the Younger.) Steadier. Much steadier t 
(0/ the Elder.) Nervous tension greatly relieved. 

YorjNGER. She has been sleeping much better. 

Dr. F. (he is standing between them. He pais tha 
hand of the Elder.) Excellent 1 Excellent 1 

Elder. She ate a good breakfast tliis morning. 

Dr. F. (he pats the hand of the Yovnger). Couldn't 
have a better sign. (He smiles from one to the other.) 
Brain disturbance, caused by futile opposition to 
the inevitable, evidently abating. One page Marcus 
Aurelius every morning before breakfast. " Adapt 
thyself," says Marcus Aurelius, " to the things with 
which thy lot has been cast. Whatever happens " 

Younger. You see, doctor, it was all so sudden. 

Dr. F. The unexpected 1 It has a way of taking 
us by surprise — bowling us over — completely. Till 
we pull ourselves together. Make the best of what 
can't be helped hke — like brave, sweet gentlewomen 
{He presses their hands.) 

{They are both wiping away a tear.) 

When do you expect them ? 

Elder. To-night, by the half-past eight train. We 
had a telegram this morning from Dover. 

Dr. F. Um I and this is to be her room ? (He takes 
it in.) The noble and renowned Constance, friend 
and confidant of the elder Pitt, maker of history, 
first Lady Bantock — by Hoppner — always there to 
keep an eye on her, remind her of the family tradi- 
tions. Brilliant idea, brilliant ! 

{They are smiling with pleasure.) 

Elder. And you don 't think — it is what we wanted 
to ask you — that there is any fear of her finding it a 
little trying — the light. You see. this is an excep- 
tionally sunny room. 

Younger, And these actresses — if all one hears is 
tni(^ 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 11 

{The dying sun is throwing his last beams across the 
room.) 

Dr. F. Which, thank God. it isn't. {He seats hinh 
%elf in the large easy chair.) 

(The Two Ladies sit side by side on the settee.) 
I'll tell you just exactly what you've got to expect. 
A lady— a few years older than'the boy himself— but 
still young. Exquisite figure; dressed— perhaps a 
tnfie too regardless of expense. Hair—maybe just a 
shade too golden. All that can be altered. Features 
—piquant, with expressive eyes, the use of which she 
probably understands, and an almost permanent 
smile, displaying an admirably preserved and re- 
markably even set of teeth. But, above all, clever. 
That's our sheet anchor. The woman's clever. 
She will know how to adapt herself to her new 
position. 

Younger (turning to her sister). Yes, she must 
be clever to have obtained the position that she has. 
(To the Doctor.) Vernon says that she was quite the 
chief attraction all this winter— in Paris. 
Elder. And the French pubhc is so critical. 
Dr. F. (drily). Urn I I was thinking rather of her 
cleverness in "landing" poor Vernon. The lad'a 
not a fool. 

Elder. We must do her justice. I think she wa« 
really in love with him. 

Dr. F. (still more drily). Very possibly. Most 
caf^ chantant singers, I take it, would be— with an 
English lord. (He laughs, and settling himself more 
comfortably, takes in his hand a vase of flowers it 
smelling them.) 
Elder. You see, she didn't know he was a lord 

Dr. F. (sits up). Didn't know ? 

Younger. No. She married him, thinking him 
to be a plain Mr. Wetherell, an artist. 

Dr. F. (he puts hack the vase—pushes it from him) 
Where d'ye get all that from ? 



IS FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Elder. From Vernon himself. YoiiVe got his 
last letter, dear. {She has opened her chatelaine bag.) 
Oh, no, I've got it myself. 

Younger. He's not going to break it to her till 
they reach here this evening. 

Elder (she reads). Yes. ** I shall not break it 
to her before we reach home. We were married 
quietly at the Hotel de Ville, and she has no idea I 
am anything else than plain Vernon James Vv'etherell, 
a fellow-countryman of her own, and a fellow artist. 
The dear creature has never even inquired whether 
I am rich or poor." I Hke her for that. 

Dr. F. You mean to tell me (He jumps up 

with his hands in his jacket pockets ; he walks to and fro.) 
I suppose it's possible. 

Elder. You see, she isn't the ordinary class of 
music-hall singer. 

Dr. F. I should say not. 

Elder. She comes of quite a good family. 

Younger. Her uncle was a bishop. 

Dr. F. Bishop ? Of where ? 

Elder [with the letter). He says he can't spell it. 
It's somewhere in New Zealand. 

Dr. F. Do they have bishops over there ? 

Younger. WeU, evidently. 

Elder. Then her cousin is a judge. 

Dr. F. In New Zealand ? 

Elder [still referring to the letter). No — ^in Ohio. 

Dr. F. Seems to have been a somewhat scattered 
family. 

Younger. People go about so much nowada3rs. 

(Enter Mrs. Bennet, the housekeeper.) 

Mrs. B. [she is about to speak to the Misses W. ; sees 
the Doctor). Good-aftemoon, doctor. 

Dr. F. Afternoon, Mrs. Bennet. 

Mrs. B. [she turns to the Misses W., her watch in 
her hand). I was thinking of having the fire lighted 
in her ladyship's bedroom. It is half-past six. 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 13 

Elder. You are always so thoughtful. She may 
be tired. 
Mrs. B. If so, everything will be quite ready. 

{She goes out L., closing door.) 

Dr. F. What do they think about it all— the 
Bennets ? You have told them ? 

Younger. We thought it better. You see, one 
hardly regards them as servants. They have been 
In the family so long. Three generations of them. 

Elder. Really, since our poor dear brother's 
death, Bennet has been more like the head of the house 
than the butler. 

Younger. Of course, he doesn't say much. 

Elder. It is her having been on the stage that 
they feel so. 

Younger. You see, they have always been a 
religious family. 

Elder, Do you know, I really think they feel it 
more than we do. I found Peggy crying about it 
yesterday in the scullery. 

Dr. F. (he has been listening with a touch of amus^ 
ment), Peggy Bennet ? 

Younger. Yes. Charles Bennet's daughter. 

Dr. F. Happen to have a servant about the place 
who isn't a Bennet ? 

Younger. No, no, I don't really think we have. 
Oh, yes — that new girl Mrs. Bennet engaged last week 
for the dairy. WTiat is her name ? 

Elder. Arnold, 

Younger. Ah, yes, Arnold. 

Dr. F. Ah I 

Elder. I think she's a cousin, dear. 

Younger. Only a second cousin. 

Dr. F. Um 1 Well, I should tell the whole family 
to buck up. Seems to me, from what you tell me, 
that their master is bringing them home a treasure. 
(He shakesi hands briskly with the ladies,) May look 



U FANNY ANJ} THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

In again to-morrow. Don't forget — one page Marcus 
Aurelius before breakfast — in case of need, 

(He goes out.) 

(The sun has sunk. The light is twilight.) 

Elder. He always cheers one up. 
Younger. He's so alive. 

(Re-enter Mrs. Bennet from L. She leaves the door ajar. 
The sound of a hammer is heard. It ceases almost 
immediately.) 

Oh, Mrs. Bennet, we w^ere going to ask you — who is to 
be her ladyship's maid ? Have you decided yet ? 

Mrs. B. I have come to the conclusion — looking 
at the thing from every point of view — that Jane 
would be the best selection. 

Younger. Jane ! {She turns to her sister.) 

Elder. But does she understand the duties ? 

Mrs. B. a lady's maid being so much alone with 
her mistress is bound to have a certain amount of 
Influence. And J ane has exceptionally high principles. 

Younger. That is true, dear. 

Mrs. B. As regards the duties, she is very quick 
at learning anything new. Of course, at first 

(The sound of hammering again comes from the bedroom.) 

Younger. Who is that hammering in her lady- 
ship's bedroom. 

Mrs. B. It is Bennet, Miss Edith. We thought it 
might be helpful ; a few texts, hung where they 
would alwa3^s catch her ladyship's eye. [She notices 
the look of doubt.) Nothing offensive. Mere general 
exhortations such as could be read by any lady. 

(The Misses W. look at one another, but do not speak.) 

I take it, dinner ivill be at half-past seven, as usual ? 
Elder. Yes, Mrs. Bennet, thank you. They will 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PKOBLEM. Ifi 

not be here till about nine. They will probably prefer 
a little supper to themselves. 

(Mrs. Bennet goes out c.) 

{The Misses W. are looking at one another again. 
The hammering recommences.) 

VouNGER (she hesitates a moment, then goes to the 
open door and calls), Bennet— Bennet I (She returns 
and waits.) 

(Bennet enters.) 

Oh, Bennet, your wife tells us you are putting up d 
few texts in her ladyship's bedroom. 

Bennet. It seemed to me that a silent voice, speak- 
ing to her, as it were, from the v/all 

YOTJNGER. It is so good of you — only— you— you 
will be careful there is nothing she could regard as a 
personal allusion. 

Bennet. Many of the most popular I was com- 
pelled to reject, purely for that reason. 

Elder. We felt sure we could trust to your 
discretion. 

Younger. You see, coming, as she does, from a 
good family 

Bennet. It is that— I speak merely for myself— 
that gives me hope of reclaiming her. 

{A pause. The Two Lajjies, feeling a little helpless, 
again look at one a?wther.) 

Elder. We must be very sympathetic. 

Younger. And patient, Bennet. 

Bennet. It is what I am preparing myself to be. 
Of course, if you think them inadvisable, I can take 
them down again 

YoungeIv. No. Bennet, oh no! 1 should leav» 
tiiera up. Very thoughtful of you indeed. 



1« FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Bennet. It seemed to me one ought to leave no 
stone unturned. 

(He goes out u, doses the door.) 

Younger [after a pause). I do hope she'll like the 
Bennets. 

Elder. I think she will — after a time — when she 
is used to them. 

Younger. I am so anxious it should turn out well. 

Elder. I feel sure she's a good woman. Vernon 
would never have fallen in love with her if she hadn't 
been good. 

{They take each other's hand, and sit side by side, as 
before, upon the settee. The twilight has faded, only 
the faint firelight remains, surrounded by shadows.) 

Do you remember, when he was a little mite, how be 
loved to play vsith your hair ? 

(The Younger laughs.) 

I always envied you your hair. 

Vounger. He was so fond of us both. Do you 
remember when he was recovering from the measles, 
his crying for us to bath him instead of Mrs. Bennet. 
I have always reproached myself that we refused. 

Elder. He was such a big boy for his age. 

Younger. I think we might have stretched a point 
in a case of illness. 

[The room has grown very dark. The door has been 
softly opened, Vernon, followed by Fanny, has 
entered noiselessly. Fanny remains near the door 
hidden by the screen — Vernon has crept forward. At 
this point the Old Ladies become aware that some' 
body is in the room. They are a little alarmed.) 

Who's there ? 

Vernon. It's all right, aunt. It's only I. 

[The Two Ladies have risen. They run forward, 
both take him in their arms.) 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 17 

Younger. Vernon I 

Elder. My dear boy I 

Younger. But we didn't expect you— 

Elder. And your wife, dear ? 

Vernon. She's here 1 

Elder. Here ? 

(Fanny, from behind screen, laughs) 

Vernon. We'U have some Ught. (He whispers ie 
(hem.) Not a word— haven't told her yet. (Feeling 
his way to the wall, r. of fireplace, he turns on the 
electric light) 

(Fanny is discovered, having slipped out from behind 
. the screen. There is a pause. Vernon standing 
near the fire, watches admiringly.) 

Fanny. Hope you are going to like me. 
Younger. My dear, I am sure we shall. 
Elder. It is so easy to love the young and pretty. 

(They have drawn dose to her. They seem to hesitate.) 

Fanny (laughs). It doesn't come off, does it, Vernon 
dear ? 

(Vernon laughs, Ths Two Old Ladies, laughing, 

kiss her,) 

Fanny. Vm so glad you think I'm pretty. As a 
matter of fact. I'm not. There's a certain charm 
about me. I admit. It deceives people. 

(Vernon laughs again.) 

Younger. We were afraid— you know, dear, boys— 
{she looks at him and smiles)—someiimes fall in love 
with women much older than themselves— especially 
women.— (5Atf grows confused— takes the girl's hand.) 
We are so relieved that you— that you are yourself 
dear. 

Fanny. You were quite right, dear. They are 
•weet. Which is which ? 



18 FANNY AN-D TITF SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Vernon {laughs). Upon my word. I never cafi teH. 
YouxGER. Veruon I And you know I was alwaya 
yonr favourite ! 
Elder. Dear I 

Vernon. Then this is Aunt AUce. 
Younger. No, dear, Edith. 

(Vernon throws up his hands in despair. They aU 
laugh.) 

Fanny. I tiiink I shall dress you differently ; put 
you in blue and you in pink. (5/^^ laughs.) Is this 
the drawing-room ? 

Vernon. Your room, dear. 

Fanny. I like a room where one can stretch one's 
legs. (She walks across it.) A Uttle too much desk. 

Elder. It belonged to the elder Pitt. 

Fanny. Um I Suppose we must find a corner for 
it somewhere. That's a good picture. 

Younger. It is by Hoppner. 
■ Fanny [she turns to Vernon). One of your artist 
friends ? 

Vernon. Well — you see, dear, that's a portrait 
of my great grandmother — painted from Ufe. 

Fanny [she whistles). I am awfully ignorant on 
some topics. One good tiling, I always was a quick 
study. Not a bad-looking woman. 

Elder. We are very proud of her. She was the 
first 

Vernon [hastily). We will have her history some 
other time. 

YoUxNGER [who understands, signs to her sister). Of 
course. She's tired. We are forgetting everything 
— you will have some tea, won't you, dear ? 

Fanny. No, thanks. We had tea in the train. 

{With the more or less helpful assistance of Vernon 
she divests herself of her outdoor garments, thej 
varying the work with lover-like pecks and twitt.ring%,) 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 19 

Elder (she holds up her hands in ast^/^ishmeni) 
Tea in the train 1 

Younger. We were not expecting you so soon 
VTou said in your telegram 

Vernon. Oh, it was raining in Lonrlon. We 
thought we would come straight on — lea\e our 
shopping for another day. 

Fanny. I beheve you were glad it was raining. 
Saved you such a lot of money. Old Stingy ! 

Elder. Then did you walk from the station, dear ? 

Fanny. Didn't it seem a long way ? {She laughs 
up into his face.) He was so bored. 

(Vernon laughs.) 

Younger. I had better tell (She is goin^ 

towards the hell.) 

Vernon (he stops her). Oh, let them alone. Plenty 
of time for all that fuss. [He puts them both gently 
side by side on the settee.) Sit down and talk. Haven't 
I been clever ? (He puts his arm round Fanny, 
laughing.) You thought I had made an ass of myself, 
didn't you ? (He laughs.) Did you get all my 
letters ? 

Younger. I think so, dear. 

(Fanny is sitting in the easy chair r.c. Vernon 
seats himself on the arm.) 

Fanny. Do you know I've never had a love-letter 
from you ? 

Vernon. You gave me no time. She met me a 
month ago, and married me last week. 

Fanny. It was quick work. He came — he saw — 
I conquered ! (Laughs.) 

Elder. They say that love at first sight is often 
ihe most lasting. 

Vernon (he puts his arm around her). You are 
wire you will never regret having given up the stage 
— the excitement 

Fanny. The excitement. Do vou know wb^i 



to FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

an actress's life always seemed to me like ? Dancing 
on a tight rope with everybody throwing stones at 
you. One soon gets tired of that sort of excitement. 
Oh, I was never in love with the stage. Had to do 
something for a living. 

Younger. It must be a hard life for a woman. 

Elder. Especially for any one not brought up to 
it. 

Fanny. You see, I had a good voice and what I 
suppose you might call a natural talent for acting. 
It seemed the easiest thing. 

Younger. I suppose your family were very much 
opposed to it ? 

(Vernon has changed his position. He is standing 
with his back to the fire.) 

Fanny. My family ? Hadn't any I 
Elder. No family ? 

(Bennet enters L.C.) 

Fanny. No, you see, I was an only child. My 
father and mother both died before I was fourteen, 

(Bennet at sound of Fanny's voice suddenly stops — 
hidden behind the screen.) 

Younger. But your uncle ? 

Fanny. Oh, him I It was to get away from him 

and all thnt cre-.v that I went on the stage. 

Elder. It is so sad when relations don't get on 
together. 

Fanny. Sadder still when they think they've got 
a right to trample on you, just because you happen 
to be an orphan and — I don't want to talk about my 
relations. I want to forget them. I stood them for 
nearly six months. I don't want to be reminded of 
them. I want to forget that they ever existed. I 
want to for 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM- 21 

{Bennet has come down very quietly. Fanny, f^om 
where he stands, is the only one who sees him. Hi 
stands looking at her, his features, as ever, immovable. 
At sight of him her eyes and mouth open wider and 
wider. The words die away from her tongue. Ver- 
non has turned away and put a log on the fire, and 
so has not seen her expression — only hears her sudden 
silence. He looks up and sees Bennet, who has 
moved a few steps further down.) 

Vernon. Ah, Bennet ! (He advances, holding 
out his hand.) You quite well ? 

Bennet (shaking hands with him). Quite well. 

Vernon. Good ! And all the family ? 

Bennet. Nothing to complain of. Charles has 
had a touch of influenza. 

Vernon. Ah, sorry to hear that. 

Bennet. And your lordship ? 

Vernon. Fit as a fiddle — your new mistress. 

(Fanny has risen. Bennet turns to her. For a 
moment his back is towards the other three, Fanny 
only sees his face,) 

Bennet. We shall endeavour to do our duty to 
her ladyship. (He turns to Vernon.) I had arranged 
for a more fitting reception 

Vernon. To tell the honest truth, Bennet, the 
very thing we were afraid of — why we walked from 
the station, and sHpped in by the side door. (Laugh- 
ing.) Has the luggage come ? 

Bennet. It has just arrived. It was about that 
I came to ask. I could not understand 

(The Misses W. have also risen. Fanny's speechless 
amazement is attributed by them and Vernon to 
natural astonishment at discovery of his rank.) 

Younger. You will be wanting a quiet talk 
together. We shall see you at dinner. 
Vernon. What time is dinner ? 



22 FAJSTNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Younger. Half-past seven. {To Fanny.) But 
don't you hurry, dear. I will tell cook to delay it a 
little. {She kisses her.) 

Elder. You will want some time to arrange that 
pretty hair oi yiiuis. [She also kisses the passive, 
speechless Fanny.) 

(They gj ou4 hand in hand.) 

Bennet. I will see, while I am here, that youf 
lordship's room is in order. 

Vernon. Why, where *s Robert then ? 

Bennet. He has gone into town to do some 
shopping. We did not expect your lordship much 
before nine. There may be one or two things to see 
to. 

(He goes out r.c.) 

Fanny (l.). Vernon, where am I ? 

Vernon. At home, dear. 

Fanny. Yes, but where ? 

Vernon. At Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. 

(Fanny sits down on the settee — drops down.) 

(He goes to her.) You're not angry with me ? You 
know how the world always talks in these cases, I 
wanted to be able to prove to them all that you 
married me for myself. Not because I was Lord 
Bantock. Can you forgive me ? {He leans over her, 
laughing.) 

Fanny {she still seems in a dream). Yes — of course. 

You didn't — you wouldn't {She suddenly strings 

up.) Vernon, you do love me ? (She flings he? arms 
round hts neck.) 

Vernon. Dear I 

Fanny. You will never be ashamed of me ? 

Vernon. Dearest I 

Fanny. 1 was onlv a music-hall singer There 'i 
no getting over it. \o\i know. 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM 23 

Vernon. I should have loved you had you been a 
beggar maid. 

Fanny (she still clings to him). With an uncle a 
costernionger, and an aunt who sold matches. It 
wouldn't have made any difference to you, would it ? 
You didn't marry me for my family, did you ? You 
didn't, did you ? 

Vernon. Darling I I maiiied you because you 
are the most fascinating, the most lovable, the most 
wonderful little woman in the world. 

(Fanny gives a sob.) 

As for your family — I've got a confession to make to 
you, dear. I made inquiries about your family be- 
fore I proposed to you. Not for my own sake — 
because I knew I'd have to answer a lot of stupid 
questions. It seemed to me quite a good family. 

Fanny. It is ! Oh, it is ! There never was such 
a respectable family. That's why I never could get 
on with them. 

Vernon (laughi^ig). Well, you haven't got to — 
any more. We needn't even let them know 

(Bennet re-enters. Vernon moves a few steps away 
from her. Fanny stands with her face turned 
towards the fire.) 

Bennet. Robert, I find, has returned. It is ten 
minutes to seven. 

Vernon. Thanks. Well, I shall be glad of a bath. 
[He turns to Fanny.) Bennet will send your maid 
to ^''^u. [He whispers to her.) You'll soon get used 
to it all. As for the confounded family — ^we w ill forget 
all about them. 

(Fanny answers with another little stifled sob. Bennei 
»> drawing, th'.' curtains, his back to the room) 



24 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

(Vernon sees that Bennet is occupied, so he steals a 
kiss from the unresponsive Fanny and goes out R. c.) 

{At the sound of the closing of the door, Fanny looks 
round, goes to the door through which Vernon has 
just passed, listens a moment, then returns to centre 
of room. Bennet calmly finishes the drawing of 
the curtains. Then he, too, crosses slowly till he and 
Fanny are facing one another across the centre of ths 
room.) 

Fanny. Well, what are you going to do ? 

Bennet. My duty ! 

Fanny. What's that ? Something unpleasant, 
I know I can bet my bottom dollar. 

Bennet. That, my girl, will depend upon you. 

Fanny. How upon me ? 

Bennet. Whether you prove an easy or a diificult 
subject. To fit you for your position a certain 
amount of training will, I fancy, be necessary. 

Fanny. Training! I'm to be {She draws herself 

up.) Are you aware who I am ? 

Bennet. Oh yes. And who you were. His lord- 
ship, I take it, would hardly relish the discovery that 
he had married his butler's niece. He might consider 
the situation awkward. 

Fanny. And who's going to train me ? 

Bennet. I am. With the assistance of your aunt 
and such other members of your family as I consider 
can be trusted. 

Fanny {for a moment she is speechless, then she 
bursts out). That ends it ! I shall tell him ! I shall 
tell him this very moment. {She crosses.) 

Bennet. At this moment you will most likely find 
his lordship hi his bath. 

Fanny. I don't care I Do you think — do you 
think for a moment that I'm going to allow myself 

— I, Lady Bantock, to be I shall tell him and you'll 

only have yourself to blame. He loves Tr>p — hf 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 2f 

kOVfeS me for myself. I shall tell him the whole truth, 
%nd ask him to give you all the sack. 

Bennet (l. c). You're not forgetting that 
you've already told him once whom you were ? 

(// stops her. What she really did was to leave the 

marriage arrangements in the hands of her business 
agent, George P. Newte. As ageyit for a music-hall 
star, he is ideal, but it is possible that in answering 
Lord Bantock's inquiries concerning Fanny's 
antecedents he may not have kept strictly to the truth.) 

Fanny. I never did. I've never told him any- 
thing about my family. 

Bennet. Curious. I was given to understand 
it was rather a classy affair. 

Fanny. I can't help what other people may have 
done. Because some silly idiot of a man may possibly 

■ Uncle, dear, wouldn't it be simpler for you all to go 

away ? He's awfully fond of me. He'll do anything 
I ask him. I could merely say that I didn't like you 
and get him to pension you off. You and aunt could 
have a little roadside inn somewhere — with ivy. 

Bennet. Seeing that together with the stables 
and the garden there are twenty-three of us 

Fanny. No, of course, he couldn't pension you all. 
You couldn't expect 

Bennet. I think his lordship might prefer to 
leave things as they are. Good servants nowadays 
are not so easily replaced. And neither your aunt 
nor I are at an age when change appeals to one. 

Fanny. You see, it's almost bound to creep out 
sooner or later, and then 

Bennet. We will make it as late as possible. (He 
crosses and rings the bell.) Giving you time to prove 
to his lordship that you are not incapable of learning. 

Fanny (she sits on the settee, she is half crying). 
Some people would be pleased that their niece had 
married welL 



28 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Bennet. I am old-fashioned enough to think also 
of my duty to those I serve. If his lordship has done 
me the honour to marry my niece, the least I can do 
is to see to it that she brings no discredit to his name. 

(Mrs. Bennet, followed by Jane, a severe looking 
woman of middle age, has etUered upon the words 
" the least I can do.'* Bennet st^iys them a moment 
with his hand while he finishes. Tlten he turns to 
his wife.) 

You will be interested to find, Susannah, that the 
new Lady Bantock is not a stranger. 

Mrs. B. Not a stranger ! (She has reached a posi- 
tion from where she sees the girl.) Fanny ! You 
wicked girl I Where have you been all these years ? 

Bennet (interposing). There will be other oppor- 
tunities for the discussion of family differences. Just 
now her ladyship is waiting to dress for dinner. 

Mrs. B. (sneering). Her ladyship ! 

Jane (also sneering). I think she might have fore- 
warned us of the honour in store for us. 

Mrs. B. Yes, why didn't she write ? 

Fanny. Because I didn't know. Do you think — 
(she rises) — that if I had I would ever have married 
him — to be brought back here ? Put in this ridic- 
ulous position ? Do you think that I am so fond of 
you all that I couldn't keep away from you at any 
price ? 

Mrs. B. But you must have known that Lord 
Bantock 

Fanny. I didn't know he was Lord Bantock. I 
only knew him as Mr. Wetherell, an artist. He 
wanted to feel sure that I was marrying him foi 
himself alone. He never told w^ 

(Ernest, a very young footman, has entered it) avsv'e* 
to Bennet's ring of a minute ago. JU. hns come 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 27 

forward step by step, staring all the while open- 

mouthed at Fanny.) 
{Turning, she sees Ernest beside her.) Hulloa, Ernie. 
How are the rabbits ? (She kisses him. ) 

Bennet, Don't stand there gaping. I rang for 
some wood Tell your brother dinner villi be at a 
quarter to eight. 
(Ernest, never speaking, still staring at Fanny, gets 

clumsily out again.) 

Fanny. Well, I suppose I'd better see about 
dressing ? Do 1 dine with his lordship or in the 
servants' hall ? 

Mrs. B. {turns to her husband). You see! Stil) 
the old impertinence, 

Fanny. Only wanted to know. My only desire 
is to give satisfaction. 

Bennet (he moves towards the door). You will do 
it by treating the matter more seri(ui?;ly. .At (dinner, 
by keeping your eye upon me, you will be able to tell 
whether you are behavmg yourself or not. 

Mrs. B. And mind you are punctual. I have 
appointed Jane to be your maid. 

Fanny. Jane ! 

Mrs. B. {in arms). Have you any objections ? 

Fanny. No, oh no, so long as you're all satisfied. 

Mrs. B. Remember, you are no longer on the 
music-hall stage. In dressing for Bantock Hall you 
will do well to follow her advice. 
(Bennet, who has been waiting with the door in his 

hand, goes out \ Mrs. B. follows.) 

Jane {in the ione.^ f^* a ftatient exenutioney). Are 
jTDU ready ? 

Fanny. Quite ready, de^". Of course — I don't 
know what you will think of tnt^in— b-jt I've only 
brought modern costumes with mfi. 

Jane {not a lady who understands satire). We 'ytn^i 
do the best we can 

(.She marchefi f>t^ !U^ 



88 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

(Fanny, after following a few steps, stops and thinks. 
Ernest has entered with the wood. He is piling it in 
the basket by the fire. His entrance decides her. 
She glances through the open door L., then flies across 
to the desk, seats herself, and begins feverishly to write 
a telegram. In a whisper, while she is busy at ike 
desk,) 

Fanny. Ernie ! 

(He comes across to her,) 

Have you still got your bicycle ? 

Ernest. Yes. 

Fanny. Could you get this telegr, -s^ off for me 
before eight o'clock ? I don't want it i-nt from the 
village, I want you to take it yourvelf — into the 
town. There's a sovereign for you if you do it all 
right. 

Ernest. I'll do it. Can only get mto a row. 

Fanny. Pretty used to them, ain't you ? {She 
has risen. She gives him the telegram. She hat 
stamped it.) Can you read it ? 

Ernest. " George P. Newte." 

Fanny. Hush 1 

(They both glance at the open door L.) 

Ernest [he continues in a lower voice). " 72 A, 
Waterloo Bridge Road, London. Must see you at 
once. Am at the new shop." (He looks up.) 

Fanny. That's all right. 

Ernest. " Come down. Q.T. Fanny.'* 

Fanny (nods). Get off quietly. I'U see you 
\gain 

VorCB OF Jane (Jrom dressing-room). Are you 
nn\% to keep me waiting all night ? 

[ikey start, Ernest hastily thrusts the telegram 
into ku breast pocket,) 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 29 

Fanny. Coming, dear, coming. Not a word to 
any one ! 

(^Ske hurries him out of door l. c. , closes it behind him.') 

Merely been putting the room a bit tidy. (She is 
flying round collecting her outdoor garments ^ etc.)^ 
Thought it would please you. So sorry if I've kept 
you waiting. ( With a pile of clothes in her arms she 
is crossing l.) 

(Jank has appeared at door.) 

After you, dear. 

(^K^^goes out agai?i. Fanny, zvith her pile of lug* 
gage,follozvs. ) 



Curtain. 



ACT 11 

Scene. — The same, except that the screen behind the 
settee has been removed. 

Time. — Morning. The sun is streaming into the room. 
(In Act 1 the beams fall down stage. They now fall 
up stage.) 

{The clock strikes eleven. On the last stroke the door 
opens. Dr. Freemantle enters, shown in by 
Bennet, who follows him.) 

Dr. F. (talking as he enters). Wonderful. Wonder- 
ful. I don't really think I ever remember so fine a 
spiing. 

Bennet (he is making up the fire). I'm afraid we 
shall have to pay for it later on. 

Dr. F. (6y the window). I expect so. Law of the 
universe, you know, Bennet, law of the universe. 
Everything in this world has got to be paid for. 

Bennet. Except trouble. 

(Doctor laughs.) 

The Times ? (He hands it to him.) 

Dr. F. Thanks. Thanks. (Seats himself.) Won't 
be long — his lordship, will he ? 

Bennet. I don't think so. 1 told him you would 
be here about eleven. 

Dr. F. Um — what do you think of her ? 

Bennet. Of — of her ladyship ? 

Dr. F. What's she Uke ? 

(They have sunk their voices.) 

Bennet. Well, it might have been worse. 
Dr. F. Ah ! There's always that consolation 
Isn't there ? 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. %\ 

Bennet. I think her ladyship— with managemeni 
—may turn out very satisfactory. 

Dr. F. You Uke her ? 

Bennet. At present— I must say for her— she 
appears wilUng to be taught. 

Dr. F. And you think it will last ? 

Bennet. I think her ladyship appreciates the 
pecuUarity of her position. I will tell the Miss 
Wetherells you are here. 

Dr. F. Ah, thanks 1 

Bennet. I fancy her ladyship wiU not herself be 
visible much before lunch time. I understand she 
woke this morning with a headache. 

(He goes out.) 

{The Doctor reads a moment. Then the door l. opens, 
and Fanny enters. Her dress is a wondcrjid con' 
irast to her costume of last evening. It might he that 
of a poor and demure nursery governess. Her hait 
is dressed iti keeping. She hardly seems the same 
woman.) 

Fanny {seeing the Doctor, she pauses). Oh I 

Dr. F. {rises— a pause). I beg pardon, have I the 
pleasure of seeing Lady Bantock ? 

Fanny. Yes. 

Dr. F. Delighted. May I introduce myself— Dr. 
Freemantle ? I helped your husband into the world. 

Fanny. Yes. I've heard of you. You don't 
mind my closing this door, do you ? {Her very voice 
and manner are changed.) 
I Dr. F. {a little puzzled). Not at all. 

Fanny {crosses, and closes the door l. c, retfirns) 
Won't— won't you be seated ? {She sits l.) 

Dr. F. Thanks. {He sits r.) How's the head- 
ache ? 

Fanny. Oh, it's better. 

Dr. F. Ah I 

(A sUencf) 



fS FANNY AND TILE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Forgive me, I'm an old friend of the family. You're 
not a bit what I expected. 

Fanny. But you like it ? I mean you think this 
— {with a gesture) — is all right ? 

Dr. F. My dear young lady, it's charming. You 
couldn't be anything else, I 

Fanny. Thank you. 

Dr. F. I merely meant that — well, I was not ex- 
pecting anything so delightfully demure. 

Fanny. That's the idea — " seemly." The Lady 
Bantocks have always been " seemly ? " (She puh 
it as a question.) 

Dr. F. (more and more puzzled). Yes — oh, yes. 
They have always been — (His eye catches that of 
Constance, first Lady Bantock, looking down at him 
from above the chimney piece. His tone changes.) 
Well, yes, in their way, you know. 

Fanny. You see, I'm in the difficult position of 
following her late ladyship. She appears to have been 
exceptionally " seemly." This is her frock — I mean 
It was h«!r frock. 

Dr. F. God bless my soul ! You are not dressing 
yourself up in her late ladyship's clothes ? The dear 
good woman has been dead and buried these twenty 
years. 

Fanny (she looks at her dress). Yes, it struck me as 
being about that period. 

Dr. F. (he goes across to her). What's the trouble ? 
Too much Bennet ? 

Fanny (she looks up. There is a suspicion of « 
$mile.). One might say — sufficient ? 

Dr. F. (laughs). Excellent servants. If they'd 
©nly remember it. (He glances round — sinks his 
voics.) Take my advice. Put your foot down — 
before it's too late. 

Fanny. Sit down, please. (She makes room for 
him on the settee — below her.) Because I'm going to 
be confidential. You don't mind, do you ? 

1}k, F. (seating himself). My dear. I take it as the 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 83 

greatest compliment I have had paid to me for years. 

Fanny. You put everything so nicely. I'm two 
persons. I'm an angel — perhaps that is too strong 
a word ? 

Dr. F. (doubtfully). Well 

Fanny. We'll say saint— or else I'm— the other 
thing. 

Dr. F. [looks at her with a smile). Do you know, 
I think you could be. 

Fanny. It's not a question about which there is 
any doubt. 

Dr. F. Of course, in this case, a little bit of the 
devil 

Fanny (she shakes her head). There's such a lot of 
mine— it has always hampered me ; never being able 
to hit the happy medium. 

Dr. F. It is awkward. 

Fanny. I thought I would go on being an angel 

Dr. F. Saint. 

Fanny. Saint — till — well, till it became physically 
Impossible to be a saint any longer. 

Dr. F. And then ? 

Fanny (she rises, crosses, turns to him with a gesture 
o' half-comic, half-tragic despair). Well, then I can't 
b4p it, can I ? 

Dr. F. I think you're making a mistake. An 
explosion ^^ill undoubtedly have to take place. That 
being so— the sooner it takes place the better. (Patise 
—he rises, goes to her.) What are you afraid of ? 

Fanny (she changes her tone — the talk becomes 
serious). You've known Vernon all his life ? 

Dr. F. No one better. 

Fanny. Tell me. I've known him only as a 
lover. What sort of a man is he ? 

(A pause. They are looking straigM into each other'i 
eyes.) 

Dr. F. a man it pays to be perfectly frank with, 

o 



M FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLERi. 

Fanny (moves towards window). It's a very old 
family, isn't it ? 

Dr. F. Old ! Good Lord, no ! First Lord Ban- 
tock was only Vernon's great grandiather. That is 
the woman that did it all. (He is looking at the 
Hoppner.) 

Fanny (she has also turned). How do you mean ? 

Dr. F. Got them their title. Made the name of 
Bantock of importance in the history of the Georges. 
Clever woman. 

Fanny (leaning over a chair, she is staring into the 
tyes of the first Lady Bantock). I wonder what she 
would have done if she had ever got herself into a 
really first-class muddle ? 

Dr. F. One thing's certain. 

(Fanny turns to him.) 
She'd have got out of it. 

Fanny (addresses the portrait) I do wish yon 
could talk. 
(Vernon hursts into the room l. c. He has been 

riding. He throws aside his hat and stick.) 

Vernon. Hulloa I This is good of you. {Ht 
shakes hands with the Doctor.) How are you ? 
(Without waiting for any reply, he goes to Fanny, kisses 
her.) Good-morning, dear. How have you been 
getting on together, you two ? Has she been talking 
to you ? 

Dr. F. Oh. yes. 

Vernon. Doesn't she talk well ? I say, what 
have you been doing to yourself ? 

Fanny. Jane — thought this style — (with a gesture) 
—more appropriate to Lady Bantock. 

Vernon. Um 1 Wonder if she's right ? (To the 
Doctor.) What do you tliink ? 

Dr. F. / think it a question solely for Lady 
Bantock. 

Vernon. Of course it is. (To Fanny.) You 
know, yo\j mustn't let them dictate to you. Dear. 



PANNY AND THE SERVANT PROELE]iL M 

g<jod. faithful souls, all of them. But they must 
anderstand that you are mistress. 

Fanny {she seizes eagerlv at this chance). You 
might mention it to them, dear. It would come so 
much better from yo^i. 

Vernon. No, you. They will take more nciice 
of you. 

Fanny. I'd so much rather you did it. (To Da. 
F.) Don't you think it would come better from him ? 

Dr. F. {laughs). I'm afraid j^ou'll have to do it 
yourself. 

Vernon. You see, dear, it might hurt them, cori> 
ing from me. It would seem Uke ingratitude. Mrs. 
Bonnet — why, it wasn't till I began to ask questions 
that I grasped the frxt that she wasn't my real mother. 
As for old Bennet, ever since my father died — ^\\'ell, I 
hardly know how I could have got on without him. 
It was Charles Bennet that taught me to ride ; I 
learned my letters sitting on Jane's lap. 

Fanny (that hope fails her). Yes. Perhaps I had 
better do it myself. 

Vernon. I'm sure It will be more cfTrctive. OS 
course I shall support you. 

Fanny. Thank you. Oh, by the by, dear, I 
fihan't be able to go with you to-day. 

Vernon. Why not ? 

Fanny. I've rather a headache. 

Vernon. Oh, I'm so sorry. Oh, all right, we'll 
stop at home. I'm not so very keen about it. 

Fanny. No, I want you to go, dear. Your aunts 
are looking fonvard to it. I shall get over it all the 
sooner with everybody out of the way. 

Vernon. Well, if you really wish it. 

(Enter the Misses Wetherell. They are dressed 
for driving. They exchange greetings with the 
Doctor.) 

Fanny. You know you promised to obey. (Tickle$ 
his nose with a flower. \ _ 



if^ FANNY AND THE SERVA]^;T PROBLEai. 

Vernon [laughing — to the Doctor). You see what 
'it is to be married ? 

Dr. F. (laughs). Very trying. 

Vernon (turning to the Old Ladies). Fanny isn't 
coming with us. 

Younger (to Fanny). Oh, my dear 1 

Fanny. It's only a headache, (She takes het 
aside.) I'm rather glad of it. I want an excuse for 
a little time to myself. 

Younger. I understand, dear. It's all been so 
sudden. (She kisses hey — then to the room.) She'll 
be all the better alone. We three will go on. (She 
nods ayid signs to her sister.) 

Fanny (kissing the Elder). Don't you get betting. 

Elder. Oh, no, dear, we never do. It's just to 
see the dear horses. 

(She joins her sister — They whisper.) 

Vernon [to the Doctor, to whom he has been talk- 
ing). Can we give you a lift ? 

Dr. F. Well, you might as far as ihQ Vicarage. 
Good-bye, Lady Bantock. 

Fanny (shaking hands). Good-bye, Doctor. 

Vernon. Sure you won't be lonely ? 

Fanny (laughs). Think I can't exist an hour with- 
out you ? Mr. Conceited I 

Vernon (latighs and kisses her). Come along. (He 
takes the Doctor and his Younger Aunt towards the 
door.) 

Elder (who is following last). I like you in that 
frock. 

Fanny (/^wg /is). So glad. It's Ernest who attends 
to the fires, isn't it ? 

Elder. Yes, dear. 

Fanny. I vdsh you'd send him up. (At door — 
calls after them.) Hope you'll all enjoy yourselves ! 

Vernon (jrom the distance). I shall put you on a 
6ver. 

Fanny. Mind it wins. [She listens a mowrnt-- 



FANNY ANl) THE SERVANT PROBLEM. S7 

closes door, comes lack to desk, and takes a Bradskaw.) 
Five-six-three— five-six-three. (Finds page.) St. 
Pancras, eight o'clock. Oh. Lord 1 Stamford, 10.45. 
Leave Stamford 

(Enter Ernest.) 

Is that you, Ernest ? 
Ernest. Yes, 
Fanny. Shut the door— sure It went off last 

night, that telegram ? 

Ernest. Yes. 

Fanny (to herself). If he doesn't catch that eight 
o'clock, he can't get here till nearly four. That will 
be awkward, (To Ernest.) What time is it now ? 

Ernest [looks at clock). Twenty past eleven. 

Fanny (to herself). If he does, he'll be here about 
twelve— I believe I'll go and meet liim. Could I 
get out without being seen ? 

Ernest. You'll have to pass the lodge, 

Fanny. Who's at the lodge now ? 

Ernest. Mother. 

Fanny. Damn I 

(Bennet has entered unnoticed at the words ** VU go 
and meet him " ayid drawn near. At this point 
from behind, he boxes Ernest's ears.) 

Ernest. Here, steady I 

Bennet. On the occasions vsheri your consin 
forgets her position, you will remember it ar.d remind 
her of it. Get out 1 

(Ernest, clumsily as ever, *' gets out.^') 

A__sort of person has called who— according to hia 
own account—" happened to be passing tl\is way " 
and would hke to see you. 

Fanny [who has been trying to hide the Dradshaw— 
vith affected surprise), to see me 1 

Bennet {drily). Yes. I thought you would \* 



t8 FANNY AND THK SERVANT PROBLEM. 

surprised. He claims to be an old friend of yours— 
Mr. George Newte. 

Fanny (still keeping it up). George Neu-te ! Oi 
course — ah, yes. Do you mind showing him up ? 

Bennet. I thought I would let you know he had 
arrived, in case you might be getting anxious about 
him. I propose giving him a glass of beer and sending 
him away again. 

Fanny {jumps up). Look here, uncle, you and I 
havd got to understand one another. I may put up 
with being bullied myself — if I can't see any help for 
It — but Fm not going to stand my friends being 
insulted. You show Mr. Newte up here. 

(A silence.) 

Bennet. I shall deem it my duty to Inform his 
lordship of Mr. Newte 's visit. 

Fanny. There will be no need to. Mr. Newte, if 
his arrangements permit, will be staying to dinner. 

Bennet. That, we shall see about. 

{He goes out.) 

Fanny {following him to door). And tell them I 
shall want the best bedroom got ready in case Mr. 
Newte is able to stay the night. I've done it I {She 
goes to piano, dashes into the " Merry Widow Waltz," 
or jome other equally inappropriate hut well-known 
melody.) 

(Then enter Newte, shown in by Bennet. Newte 
is a cheer fid person, attractively dressed in clothes 
suggestive of a successful bookmaker. He carries a 
white pot hat and tasselled cane. His gloves are 
large and bright. He is smoking an enormous cigar.) 

Bennet. Mr. Newte. 

(Fanny springs up and greets him. They are ev^ 
iently good friends.) 

Fanvy. Hulloa, George I 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. St 

Newte. HuUoa, Fan — I beg your pardon, Lady 
Bantock. (Laughs.) Was just passing this way 

Fanny {cutting him short). Yes — so nice of you to 
caU. 

Newtb. I said to myself (His eye catches 

Bennet, he stops). Ah, thanks. 

(He gives Bennet his hat and stick, but Bennet do€$ 
not seem satisfied. He has taken from the table « 
small china tray. This he is holding out to Newte, 
evidently for Newte to put something in it. Fnt 
what? Newte is puzzled, he glances at Fanny. 
The idea strikes him that perhaps it is a tip Bennet 
is waiting for. It seems odd, but if it be the custom — 
he puts his hand to his trouser's pocket.) 

Bennet. The smoking-room is on the ground 
floor. 

Newte. Ah, my cigar. I beg your pardon. I 
couldn't understand. (He puts it on the tray — breaki 
into a laugh.) 

Bennet. Thank you. Her ladyship is suffering 
from a headache. If I might suggest — a little less 
boisterousness. 

(Hs goes out.) 

(A silence. Newte (r.) , suddenly subdued, and Fanny 
(l.) look at one another.) 

Newte. I say, your Lord Chamberlain's a bit oi 
a freezer I 

Fanny. Yes. Wants hanging out in the sun. 
How did you manage to get here so early ? (Sits 
upper end of settee.) 

Newte. Well, your telegram rather upset me. I 
thought — correct etiquette for me to sit down here, 
do you think ? 

Fanny. Don't ask me. Got enough new tricks 
of my own to learn. (Laughs.) Should chance it, 
if I were you. 



40 FANNY AND THE SERV^ANT PROBLEM. 

Newte. Such a long time since T was at Cnurt, 
(Sils.) Yes, I was up at five o'clock this morning. 

Fanny (laughs). Oh, you poor fellow ! 

Newte. Caught the first train to Melton, and 
came on by cart. What's the trouble ? 

Fanny. A good deal. Why didn't you tell mt 
what I was marrying ? 

Newte. I did. I told you that he was a gentleman j 
that he 

Fanny, Why didn't you tell me that he was Lord 
Bantock ? You knew, didn't j^ou ? 

New^te (begins to see worries ahead). Can't object 
to my putting a cigar in my mouth if I don't light 
It — can he ? 

Fanny (impatient). Oh, light it — anything you like 
that will help you to get along. 

Newte (bites the end off the cigar and puis it between 
his teeth. This helps him). No, I didn't know — not 
officially. 

Fanny. What do you mean " not officially ? " 

Newte. He never told me. 

Fanny. He never told you anything — tor the 
matter of that. I understood you had found out 
everything for yourself. 

Newte. Yes ; and one of the things I found out 
was — that he didn't want you to know. I could ?<'e 
liis little game. Wanted to play the Lord Burleigh 
fake. Well, what was the harm ? Didn't make 
any difference to you I 

Fanny. Didn't make any difference to me I 
(Jumps lip.) Do you know what I've done ? Married 
into a family that keeps twenty-three servants, every 
blessed one of whom is a near relation of my own. 

(He sits paralysed. She goes on.) 

That bald-headed old owl — (with a wave towards the 
door) — that wanted to send you off with a glass oi 
beer and 3 flea in your ear — that's my uncle. Th*» 



FANNY ANT) THE SERVANT PROBLEM. «i 

woman that opened the lf).]ge gate for you is my Aunt 
AnieUa. The carrot ty-headed young man that 
answered the door to you is my cousin Simeon. Hf 
always used to insist on kissing me. I'm expecting 
him to begin again. My " lady's " maid is my cousin 
Jane. That's why I'm dressed like this I My own 
clothes have been packed of/ to the local dressmaker 
to be made ** decent." Meanwliile, they've dug up 
the family vault to find something for me to go on 
with. 

{He has been fumblifig in all his pockets for matches. 
She snatches a box from somewhere and flings it to 
him.} 

For Heaven's sake light it I Then, perhaps, you'll 
be able to do something else than stare. I have claret 
and water — mixed — with my dinner. Uncle pours 
It out for me. They've locked up my cigarettes. 
Aunt vSusannah is corning in to-morrow morning to 
hear me say my prayers. Doesn't trust me by myself. 
Thinks I'll skip them. She's the housekeeper here. 
I've got to know tiiem by heart before I go to bed 
to-night, and now I've mislaid them. (She goes to 
the desk — hunts for them.) 

Nevtye {having lighted his eternal cigar he can begin 
to think). But why should they 

Fanny [stiU at desk). Because they're that sort. 
They honestly tliink they are doing the right and 
proper thing — that Providence has put it into their 
hands to turn me out a passable substitute for all 
a Lady Bantock should be ; which, so far as I can 
understand, is something belween the late lamented 
Queen Victoria and Goody-Two-Shoes. They are 
the people that I ran away from, the ])eople ^^ e told 
you about, the people I've always said I'd rather 
starve than ever go back to. And here I am, plumped 
down in the midst of them again — for life I Whal 
is it ? What is it ? 



42 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

(HoNORiA Bennet, the " stilUroom " maid, has entered 
L. c. She is a pert young minx of about Fanny's 
own age.) 

HoNORiA. Merely passing through. Sorry to 
have excited your ladyship. 

(Goes out L.) 

Fanny. My cousin Honoria. They've sent her 
ap to keep an eye upon me. Little cat I (Sne takes 
her handkerchief, drapes it over the keyhole of the door L.) 

Newte (at sight of Honoria he has jtimpea up and 
hastily hidden his cigar behind him). \Vb-it are you 
going to do ? 

Fanny (she seats herself on the chair r he has jusi 
vacated — suggests to him the writing-chair). Hear from 
you — first of all — exactly what you told A emon. 

Newte (sitting). About you ? 

Fanny {nods). About me — and my family. 

Newte. Well — couldn't tell him mii^h, of course. 
Wasn't much to tell. 

Fanny. I want what you did tell, 

Newte. I told him — that your late /ather — ^was a 
musician. 

Fanny. Yes. 

Newte. Had been unfortunate. Didn't go into 
particulars. Didn't seem to be any need ior it. 
That your mother had died when you were still only a 
girl — that you had gone to live with relatives. {H» 
looks for approval.) 

Fanny. Yes. 

Newte. That you hadn't got on well with them — 
artistic temperament, all that sort of thing — * hat, in 
consequence, you had appealed to your father's old 
theatrical friends ; and that they — that they, having 
regard to your talent — and beauty 

Fanny. Thank you. 

Newte. Had decided that the best thing 5^00 
could do was to go upon the stage. (He finishes, 
ffderahlv well plea^^ed with himself.) 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 4S 

Fanny. That's all right. Very good indeed— 
what else ? 

Newte (after an uncomfortable pause). Well 
that's about aU I knew. 

Fanny. Yes, but what did you tell him ? 

Newte. WeU, of course, I had to tell him some- 
thing. A man doesn't marry without knowing just a 
little about his wife's connexions. Wouldn't be 
reasonable to expect him. You'd never told me any^ 
thing—never would ; except that you'd hked to have 
boiled the lot. What was I to do ? (He is flaying 
wtth a quill pen he has picked up.) 

Fanny (she takes it from him). What did you do ? 

Newte (with fine frankness). I did the best I 
could for you, old girl, and he was very nice about it. 
Said it was better than he'd expected, and that I'd 
made him very happy— very happy indeed. 

Fanny (she leans across, puts her hand on his). 
You're a dear, good fellow, George — always have 
been. I wouldn't plague you only it is absolutely 
necessary I should know— exactly what you did teU 
him. 

Newte (a little sulkily). I told him that your uncle 
was a bishop. 

Fanny (sits hack— staring at him). A what ? 

Newte. A bishop. Bishop of Waiapu, New 
Zealand. 

Fanny. Why New Zealand ? 

Newte. Why not? Had to be somewhere. 
Didn't want him Archbishop of Canterbury, did 
you ? 

Fanny. Did he believe it ? 

Newte. Shouldn't have told him had there been 
any fear that he wouldn't. 

Fanny (the hitter laugh— then). Any other swell 
relations of mine knocking about ? 

Newte. One— a judge of the Supreme Court in 
Ohio. Same name, anyhow, 'Gorman. Thought 
I'd make him a cousin of yours. I've always rempm 



44 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

bered him. Met him when I was over there In 
ninety-eight — damn him I 

(A silence.) 

Fai^ny (she rises). Well, nothing else for it 1 Got 
to tell him it was all a pack of Ues. Not blaming you, 
old boy — my fault. Didn't know he was going to ask 
any questions, or I'd have told him myself. Bit ^i 
bad luck, that's all. 

Nevvte. Why must you tell him ? Only upset 
him. 

Fanny. It's either my telling him or leaving it for 
them to do. You know me, George. How long do 
you see me being bossed and bullied by my own ser- 
vants ? Besides, it's bound to come out in any case. 

Newte [he rises. Kindly but firmly he puts her hack 
into her chair. Then pacing to and fro with his hands 
mostly in his trousers' pockets, he talks). Now, you 
listen to me, old girl. I've been your business manager 
ever since you started in. I've never made a mistake 
before — {he turns and faces her) — and I haven't made 
one this time. 

Fanny. I don't really see the smartness, George, 
stuffing him up with a lot of Hes he can find out for 
himself. 

Newte. // he wants to. A couple of telegrams, 
one to His Grace the Bishop of Waiapu, the other to 
Judge Denis O'Gorman, Columbus, Ohio, would have 
brought him back the information that neither gentle- 
men had ever heard of you. If he hadn't been careful 
not to send them. He wasn't marrying you with the 
idea of strengthening his family connexions. He was 
marrying you because he was just gone on you. 
Couldn't help himself. 

Fanny. In that case, you might just as well have 
told him the truth. 

Newte. Which he would then have had to pass on 
to everv one entitled to ask Questions. Can't von under- 



FANinr AND THE SERVA^TT PROBLEM. 45 

Btand ? Somebody, in the interests of everybod}' , had 
to tell a lie. Well, what's a business manager for ? 

Fanny. But I can't do it, George. You don't know 
them. The longer I give in to them the worse they'U 
get. 

Newte. Can't you square them ? 

Fanny. No. that's the trouble. They are honest. 
They're the " faithful retainers " out of amelodrama. 
They are working eighteen hours a day on me not for 
advantage to themselves, because they think it their 
" duty " to the family. They don't seem to have 
any use for themselves at all. 

Newte. Well, what about the boy ? Can't he 
talk to them ? 

Fanny. Vernon ! They've brought him up from 
a baby — spanked him all round, I expect. Might 
as well ask a boy to talk to his old schoolmaster. 
Besides, if he did talk, then it would all come out. As 
I tell you, it's bound to come out — and the sooner the 
better. 

Newte. It must not come out I It's too late. If 
we /ia^ told him at the beginning that he was propos- 
ing to marry into his own butler's family — well, it's 
an awkward situation — he might have decided to risk 
It. Or he might have cried off. 

Fanny. And a good job if he had. 

Newte. Now talk sense. You wanted him — you 
took a fancy to him from the beginning. He's a 
nice boy, and there's somethiiig o\^ing to him. {It 
is his trump card, and he knows it.) 

(Fanny winces.) 

Don't forget that. He's been busy, explaining to all 
his friends and relations why they should receive 
you with open arms ; really nice girl, born gentle- 
woman, good old Church of England famih. no 
objection possible. For you to s]>ring the tnith u{X)n 
him now. Well, it doesn't seem to me quite iaii' tc 
him. 



i6 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Fanny. Then am I to live all my life dressed as • 
charity girl ? 

Newte. You keep your head and things will gradu- 
ally right themselves. This family of yours — they've 
got some sense, I suppose ? 

Fanny. Never noticed any sign of it myself. 

Newte. Maybe you're not a judge. (Laughs.) 
They'll listen to reason. You let me have a talk to 
them, one of these days ; see if I can't show them — 
first one and then the other — the advantage of leaving 
to " better " themselves — with the help of a little 
ready money. Later on — choosing your proper time 
— you can break it to him that you have discovered 
they're distant connexions of yours, a younger branch 
of the family that you'd forgotten. Give the show 
time to settle down into a run. Then you can begin 
to make changes. 

Fanny. You've a wonderful way with you, George. 
It always sounds right as you put it — even when one 
jolly well knows that it isn't. (Laughs.) 

Newte (laughs). Well, it's always been right for 
you, old girl, ain't it ? 

Fanny. Yes. You've been a rattling good friend. 
{She takes his hands). Almost wish I'd married you 
instead. We'd have been more suited to one another. 

Newte (shakes his head.) Nothing Uke having your 
fancy. You'd never have been happy without him. 
(He releases her.) 'Twas a good engagement, or I'd 
never have sanctioned it. 

Fanny. I suppose it will be the last one you will 
ever get me. (She has dropped for a moment into a 
brown study.) 

Newte (he turns). I hope so. 

Fanny (she throzvs off her momentary mood with a 
laugh) . Poor fellow 1 You never even got your 
commission. 

Newte. I'll take ten per cent, of aU your happiness, 
old girl. So make it as much as you can for my 
benefit. Good-bye. (He holds out hand.) 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 41 

Fanny. You're not going ? You'll stop to lunch ? 

Newte. Not to-day. 

Fanny. Do. If you don't they'll think it's because 
I was frightened to ask you. 

Newte. All the better. The more the other party 
thinks he's having his way, the easier always to get 
ycmr own. Your trouble is, you know, that you 
never had any tact. 

Fanny. I hate tact. 

(Newte laughs.) 

We could have had such a jolly little lunch together. 
I'm all alone till the evening. There were ever so 
many things I wanted to talk to you about. 

Newte. What ? 

Fanny. Ah, how can one talk to a man with 
his watch in his hand ? 

{He puts it away and stands waitv g, hut she is cross,) 

I think you're very disagreeable. 

Newte. I must really get back to town. I 
oughtn't to be away now, only your telegram 

Fanny. I know. I'm an ungrateful little beast 1 
{She crosses and rings hell,) You'll have a glass o\ 
champagne before you go ? 

Newte, Well, I won't say no to that. 

Fanny. How are all the girls ? 

Newte. Oh, chirpy. I'm bringing them over to 
London. We open at the Palace next month. 

Fanny. What did they think of my marriage / 
Gerty was a bit jealous, wasn't she ? 

Newte. Well, would have been, if she'd known 
who he was. (Laughs.) 

Fanny. Tell her. Tell her — [she draws herself up) 
— I'm Lady Bantock, of Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire 
It will make her so mad. [Laughs.) 

Newte (laughs). I will. 

Fanny. Give them all my love. 



i8 FANNY AND THE SB^RVANT PROBLEM. 

(Enter Ernest l. c.) 

Oh, Ernest, tell Bennet 

^i^RNEST, his eyes and mouth open.) 

To see that Mr. Newte has some refreshment before he 
leaves. A glass of champagne and — and some caviare. 
Don't forget. Good-bye. You'll come again ? 

Newte. Whenever you want me — and rememfc>er 
— the watchword is " Tact I " 

(They are by the door. Ernest is ahead.) 

Fanny. Yes, I've got the word all right. (Laughs.) 
Don't forget to give my love to the girls, 
Newte. I won't. So long 1 

(He goes out.) 

(Fanny closes the door and comes down. Honoria 
has re-entered from the dressing-room. She looks 
from, the handkerchief still hanging over the keyhole 
to Fanny.) 

Honoria. Your ladyship's handkerchief ? 

Fanny. Yes. Such a draught through that key- 
hole. 

\lo^OR\h [takes the handkerchief , hands it to Fanny). 
I will tell the housekeeper. 

Fanny. Thanks. Maybe you will also mention it 
to the butler. Possibly also to the — (She suddenly 
changes.) Honoria. Suppose it had been you — you 
know, you're awfully pretty — who had married Lord 
Bantock, and he had brought you back here, among 
them all — uncle, aunt, aU the lot of them — what 
would you have done ? 

Honoria (she draws herself «/>). I should have 
made it quite plain from the tirst, that / was mistress, 
and that they were my servants. 

Fanny. You would, you think 

Wo^ORiK [checking her outburst). But then, dear — 
vou will excuse my speaking plainly — there is a slight 



FAXNY AXD THE vSERVANT PHORLEM. 49 

^ififf-rence between the two cases. (She seats herself 
on the settee.) 

(Fanny %s standing near the desk.) 

You see, what we all feel about you, dear, is — that 
you are — well, hardly a fit wife for liis lordship. 

(Fanny's hands are itching to box the girl's ears. 1 <> 
sa7)e herself she grinds out through her teeth the word 
" Tack 1 ") 

Of course, dear, it isn't altogether your fault. 

Fanny. Thanks. 

Honoria. Your mother's marriage was most 
unfortunate. 

Fanny (her efforts to suppress her feelings are just — 
hut only just — successful). Need we discuss that } 

Honoria. Well, he was an Irishman, dear, there's 
no denying it. 

(Fanny takes a cushion from a chair — with her hack to 
Honoria, she strangles it. Enter Jane l,c. She 
stands listening.) 

Still, perhaps It Is a painful subject. And we hope 
— aU of U6 — that, with time and patience, we may 
siicceed in eradicating the natural results of your 
brirgmg-up. 

Janh. Some families, finding themselves in our 
position, would seek to turn it to their own advantage. 
We tliink only of your good. 

Fanny. Yes, that's what I feel — that you are worry- 
ing yourselves too much about me. Your* re too 
conscientious, all of you. You, in particular, Jane, 
because you know you're not strong. You'll end up 
with a nervous break down. 

(Enter Mrs. Bennet l. Honoria nips up.) 

(She turns to her aunt.) J was just saying how anxious 
I'm getting about Jane. 1 don't like the look of her 



80 FANNY AND THE SSRVAJST PROBLEM. 

at all. What she wants is a holiday. Don't yon 
agree with me ? 

Mrs. B. There will be no holiday, I fear, for any of 
us, for many a long day. 

Fanny. But you must. You must think more ol 
yourselves, you know, you're not looking well, aunt, 
at all. What you both want is a month — at the 
seaside. 

Mrs. B. Your object is too painfully apparent for 
the subject to need discussion. True solicitude for 
us would express itself better in greater watchfulness 
upon your own behaviour. 

Fanny. Why, what have I done ? 

(Enter Bennet l. c, followed, unwillingly, by Ernest.) 

Mrs. B. Your uncle will explain. 
Bennet. Shut that door. 

(Ernest does so. They group l. round Bennet— 
Ernest a little behind. Fanny remains R. 

Sit down. 

(Fanny, bewildered, speechless, sits r.) 

Carry your mind back, please, to the moment when, 
with the Bradshaw in front of you, you were consider- 
ing, with the help of your cousin Ernest, the possibiHty 
of your slipping out unobserved, to meet and commune 
with a person you had surreptitiously summoned to 
visit you during your husband's absence. 

Fanny. While I think of it, did he have anything 
to eat before he went ? I told Ernest to — ask you 
to see that he had a glass of champagne and a 

Bennet {waves her back into silence) . Mr. Newte was 
given refreshment — suitable to his station. 

{She goes to interrupt — again he waves her back.) 

We are speaking of more important matters. Your 
coo^n reminded you that you would have to pass the 



FANNY AND THE SERVx\NT PROBLEM. 51 

lodge, occupied by your Aunt Amelia. I state the 
case correctly ? 

Fanny. Beautifully ! 

Bennet. I said nothing at the time, doubting the 
evidence of my own ears. The boy, however — where 
Is the boy ? — 

(Ernest is pushed forward.) 

has admitted — reluctantly — (he darts out the word 
straight at the boy) 

(Ernest instinctively raises his arm.) 

that he also heard it (.4 pause to gather solemnity,) 

You made use of an expression. 

Fanny. Oh, cut it short— I said " damn." 

(A shudder passes the Three Women.) 

I'm sorry to have frightened you, but if you knew a 
little more of really good society, you would know 
that ladies — quite slap-up ladies — when they're 
excited — do 

Mrs. B. {interrupting with almost a scream). She 
defends it 1 

Bennet. You will allow me to be the judge of what 
a lady says — even when she is excited. As for this 
man, Newte 

Fanny. The best friend you ever had. (She is 
** up " again.) You thank your stars, all of you, 
and tell the others, too, the whole blessed twenty- three 
of you — you thank your stars that I did " surrepti- 
tiously " beg and pray him to run down by the first 
train and have a talk with me ; and that Providence 
was kind enough to you to enable him to come. It's 
a very different tune you'd have been singing at this 
moment — all of you — if he hadn't. I can tell you that. 

Mrs. B. And pray, what tune s/?omW we have been 
singing if Providence hadn't been so thoughtful of us ? 

Fanny (site is about to answer, then checks herself. 



-2 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

ard sits again). You take care you don't find out — 
there's time yet. 

Mrs. B. We had better leave her. 

Bennet. Threats, my good girl, will not help you. 

Mrs. B. (with a laugh). She's in too tight a corner 
for that. 

Bennet. A contrite heart is what your aunt and I 
desire to see. {fie takes from his pocket a small book, 
places it open on the desk.) I have marked one or two 
passages, on pages 03-7. We will discuss them 
together — kiter in the daJ^ 

{They troop nut in silence, the key turns in the lock.) 

Fanny [takes up the book — turns to the cover, reads) 
'^ The Sinner's Manual." (She turns to paf,3 93.) 



ACT 111 



Scene. The same. 



{The door L. C. opens. Ernest enters with tea-urn, 

etc , which he pt-uceeds to add to the other tea arrange- 
ments on table r. c. He leaves the door open ; through 
it comes the sound of an harmonium, accompanying the 
singing of a hymn. The voices cojne from belou 
Fanny enters l. She is dressed more cheerfully 
than in Act II, hut still " seemly.*' She has a 
book in her hand. She pauses, hearing the run sic. 
goes nearer to the open door, and listens ; then crosses 
and takes her place at the table. The mnsic ceases.) 

Fanny. Another prayer meeting ? 

(Ernest nods.) 

[With a short laugh.) I do keep 'em busy. 

Ernest. D'ye know what they call you down- 
stairs ? 

Fanny. What ? 

Ernest. The family cross. 

Fanny. I'm afraid it's about right. 

Ernest. What have you been doing this time ? 
Swearing again ? 

Fanny. Worse. I've been lying. 

(Ernest gives vent to a low whistle.) 

Said I didn't know what had become of that yellow 
popUn with the black lace flounces, that they've had 
altered for me. Found out that I'd given it to old 
Mother Potts for the rummage sale at the Vicarage. 
jana was down there. Bon^^lit it in lor liali a crown. 



«4 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Ernest. You are risky. Why, you might have 
known 

{Enter Vernon l. c. He is in golfing get-up. H 
throws his cap on to the settee.) 

Vernon. Hello, got a cup of tea there ? 
(Ernest goes out.) 

Fanny. Yes. Thought you were playing golf ? 

Vernon. Just had a telegram handed to me in the 
village — from your friend Newte. Wants me to meet 
him at Melton Station at five o'clock. (Looks ai 
his watch.) Know what he wants ? 

Fanny. Haven't the faintest idea. (She hands him 
his cup.) Is he coming here ? Or merely on his way 
somewhere ? 

Vernon. I don't know, he doesn't say. 

Fanny. Don't let him mix you up in any of his 
" ventures." Dear old George, he's as honest as the 
day, but if he gets hold of an " idea " there's always 
thousands in it for everybody. 

Vernon. I'll be careful. 

(Ernest has left the door open. The harmonium 
breaks forth again, together with vocal accompaniment 
as before.) 

What's on downstairs then — a party ? 

Fanny. Bennet is holding a prayer meeting. 

Vernon. A prayer meeting ? 

Fanny. One of the younger members of the family 
has been detected " telling a deliberate he." 

(Vernon is near the door listening, with his back 
towards her, or he would see that she is smiling.) 

Black sheep, I suppose, to be found in every flock. 

[Music ceases, Ernest having arrived with the news 
of Vernon's return.) 

Vernon (returning to the table, having closed the doott 
With enthusiasm.). Good old man, you know. Bennet 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 58 

All of them I So high-principled I Don't often get 
servants like that nowadays 

Fanny. Seems almost selfish, keeping the whole 
collection to ourselves. 

Vernon {laughs). Ton my word it does. But what 
can we do ? They'll never leave us — not one of them. 

Fanny. No, I don't believe they ever will. 

Vernon. Do you know, I sometimes think that you 
don't like them. 

(Fanny makes a movement.) 

Of course, they are a bit bossy, I admit. But all that 
comes from their devotion, their 

Fanny. The wonder to me is that, brought up 
among them, admiring them as you do, you never 
thought of marr5dng one of them. 

Vernon (staggered). Marrying them ? 

Fanny. I didn't say " them." I said " one ol 
them." There's Honoria. She's pretty enough, 
anyhow. So's Alice, Charles Bennet's daughter, and 
Bertha and Grace. All of them beautiful. And 
what's even better still — good. (She says ii viciously,) 
Didn't you ever think of them ? 

Vernon. Well (laughs) — well, one hardly marries 
Into one's own kitchen. 

Fanny. Isn't that rather snobbish? You say 
they're more Hke friends than servants. They've lived 
with your people, side by side, for three generations, 
doing their duty — honourably. There's never been 9 
slur upon their name. They're " lugh-principled." 
You know it. They've better manners than nine- 
tenths of your smart society, and they're healthy. 
What's wrong with them — even from a lord's point 
of view ? 

Vernon (recovering himself). Well, don't pitch intc 
me about it. It's your fault if I didn't marry them— 
I mean one of them. (He laughs, puts his empty 
cup back on the table.) Maybe I'd have thought aboul 
it — if I hadn't met you. 



66 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Fanny (she laughs — takes his hand in hers). I wish 
you hadn't asked l\ewte any questions about me. It 
would have been so nice to feel that you had married 
me — just because you couldn't help it — {laughs) — just 
because I was I ; and nothing else mattered. 

Vernon. Let's forget I ever did. (He kneels hesids 
her,) I didn't do it for my own sake, as you know. 
A man in my position hus to think of other people. 
His wife has to take her place in society. People 
insist upon knowing something about her. It's not 
enough for the stupid " County " that she's the 
cleverest, most bewilderingly beautiful, bewitching 
lady in the land. 

Fanny (she laughs). And how long will you think 
all that ? 

Vernon. For ever, and ever, and ever. 

Fanny. Oh, you dear boy. (She kisses him.) You 
don't know how a woman loves the man she loves to 
love her. (Laughs.) Isn't that compUcated ? 

Vernon. Not at all. We're just the same. We 
love to love the woman we love. 

Fanny (laughs). Provided the " County " will let 
us. And the County has said : A man may not 
marry his butler's niece. 

Vernon (laughing). You've got butlers on the 
brain. If ever I do run away with my own cook or 
under-housemaid, it will be your doing. 

Fanny. You haven't the pluck 1 The " County " 
would laugh at you. You men are so frightened of 
being laughed at. 

Vernon (he rises). Well, if it saves us from making 
asses of ourselves 

Fanny. Wasn't there a niece of old Bennet's — a 
girl who had been brought up abroad, and who wasn't 
a domestic servant — never had been — who stayed 
with them here, at the gardener's cottage, for a short 
time, some few years ago ? 

Vernon. You mean poor Rose Bennet's daughtei 
— the one who ran away and marned an organ-grin ier 



FANNT AN^D THE SERVANT PROBLEM. S7 

Fanny. An organ-grinder ? 

Vernon. Something of that sort — yes. They had 
her over ; did all they could. A crazy sort of ghi ; 
used to sing French ballads on the village green to all 
the farm labourers she could collect. Shortened poor 
Bennet's life by about ten years. (Laughs.) 

(Fanny joins him.) 

But why ? Not going to bully me for not having 
fallen in love with her, are you ? Because that really 
wasn't my fault. I never even saw her. 'Twas 
the winter we spent in Rome. She bolted before 
we got back. Never gave me a chance. 

Fanny. I accept the excuse. [Laughs.) No, I 
was merely wondering what the " County " would 
have done if by any chance you had married her. 
Couldn't have said you were marrjdng into your own 
kitchen in her case, because she was never in your 
kitchen — abeolately refused to enter it, I'm told. 

Vernon (laughs). It would have been a "nice 
point," as they say in legal circles. If people had 
liked her they'd have tried to forget tliat her cousins 
had ever been scullcry-maids. If not, they'd have 
taken good care that nobody did, 

{Enter Bennet, He brings some cut flowers, with the 
*' placing** of which he occupies himself. ) 

Bennet. I didnotknowyour lordship had returned. 

Vernon. Found a telegran:\ waiting for me in the 
village. What's become of that niece of yours, 
Bennet — your sister Rose's daughter, who was here 
for a short time and ran away again ? Ever heai 
anything about her ? 

Bennet (he is L., his back to the room. Very quietly 
he turns, lets his eyes for a moment meet Fanny's. 
Then answers as he crosses R.). The last I heard 
about her was that she was married. 



•8 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Vernon (l.) Satisfactorily ? 

Bennet {arranging ftowers r.). Looking at it froni 
her point of view — most satisfactorily. 

Vernon {laughs). But looking at it from his — 
more doubtful ? 

Bennet. She was not without her attractions. Her 
chief faults, I am inclined to think, were those arising 
from want of discipHne in youth ; I have hopes that 
It is not even yet too late to root out from her nature 
the weeds of — indiscretion. 

Vernon. And you think he is the man to do it ? 

Bennet. Perhaps Dot. But fortunately there are 
those about her fully alive to the duty devolving 
upon them. 

Vernon. Um. Sounds a little bit Hke penal servi- 
tude for the poor girl, the way you put it, Bennet. 
{Laughs.) 

Bennet. Even penal servitude may be a blessing 
If it serves to correct a stubborn spirit. 

Vernon. We'll have to make you a J. P., Bennet. 
Must be jolly careful I don't ever get tried before you. 
{Laughs.) Is that the cart ? 

Bennet {he looks out through the window) . Yes, your 
lordship. 

Vernon {he takes up his cap). I may be bringing 
some one back viith me. {To Fanny, who throughoui 
has remained seated R.C.) Why not put on your hat 
— come with me ? 

Fanny {she jumps up, delighted). Shall I ? 

Bennet. Your ladyship is not forgetting that 
to-day is Wednesday ? 

Fanny. What's the odds. There's nobody to call. 
Everybody is still in town. 

Bennet. It has always been the custom of the 
Lady Bantocks, when in residence, to be at home on 
Wednesdays. 

Vernon. Perhaps better not. It may cause talk ; 
If, by chance, an5^body does come. I was forgettmg 
It was Wednesday. 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 5t 

(Fanny sits again.) 

I shan't do anything without consulting you Good- 
bye. 
Fanny. Good-bye. 

(He goes out. Slams the door.) 

Bennet. You think it wise, discussing with his 
lordsliip the secret history of the Bennet family ? 

Fanny. What do you mean by telling him my father 
was an organ-grinder ? If the British pubUc knew 
the difference between music and a hurdy-gurdy 
he would have kept a butler of his own. 

Bennet. I am not aware of having mentioned to his 
lordship that you ever to my knowledge even had a 
father. It is not my plan, for the present at all events, 
to inform his lordship anything about your family. 
Take care I am not forced to. 

Fanny. Because my father, a composer who had 
his work performed at the Lamoureux Concerts — 
as I can prove, because I've got the programme — 
had the misfortune to marry into a family of lackeys 
— I'm not talking about my mother • she was never 
really one of you. She had the soul of an artist. 

Bennet [white with suppressed fury ; he is in 
front of her ; his very look is enough to silence her). 
Now you listen to me, my girl, once and for all. I 
told you the night of 37our arrival that whether this 
business was going to prove a pleasant or an unplea- 
sant one depended upon you. You make it an easy 
one — for your own sake. With one word I can bring 
your house of cards about your ears. I've only to 
tell him the truth for him to know you as a cheat 
and liar. 

(She goes to speak ; again he silences her.) 

You listen to me. You've seen fit to use strong 
language ; now I'm using strong language. This 
boy, who has married you in a moment of impulse 
what does he know about the sort of wife a man Id 



so FANNY ANT) THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

his position needs ? What do you ? made to sing 
for your Hving on the Paris boulevards — whose only 
acquaintance with the upper classes has been at 
shady restaurants. 

Fanny. He didn't want a woman ot his own class. 
He told me so. It was because I wasn't a colourless, 
conventional puppet with a book of etiquette in 
place of a soul that he was first drawn towards me. 

Bennet. Yes. At twenty-two. Boys like un- 
conventionaUty. Men don't : they've learnt its true 
name, vulgarity. Do you think I've stood behind 
English society for forty years without learning 
anything about it I What you call a colourless 
puppet is what we call an English lady. And that 
you've got to learn to be. You talk of " lackeys." H 
your mother, my poor sister Rose, came from a 
family of " lackeys " there would be no hope for you. 
With her blood in your veins the thing can be done. 
We Bennets — [he draws himself up) — we serve. We 
are not lackeys. 

Fanny. All right. Don't you call my father an 
organ-grinder. I won't call you lackeys. Unfor- 
tunately that doesn't end the trouble. 

Bennet. The trouble can easily be ended. 

Fanny. Yes. By my submitting to be ruled in 
all things for the remainder of my life by my own 
servants. 

Bennet. Say "relations," and it need not sound 
so unpleasant. 

Fanny. Yes, it would. It would sound worse. 
One can get rid of one's servants. {She has crossed 
towards the desk. Her cheque-book lies there half hidden 
under other papers. It catches her eye. Her hand 
steals unconsciously towards it. She taps it idly with 
her fingers. It is all the work of a moment. Nothing 
comes of it. Just the idea passes through her brain : 
not for the first time. She does nothing noticeable — 
merely stands listless while one might count half a 
dozen — Ihen turns to him again.) Don't you think 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEAL «! 

you're going it a bit too strong, all of you ? I'm not 
a fool. I've got a lot to learn, 1 know. I'd be graicjid 
for help. What you're trying to do is to turn me 
into a new woman entirely. 

Bennet. Because that is the only way to help 
you. Men do not put new wine into old bottles. 

Fanny. Oh, don't begin quoting ScrijAure. I 
want to discuss the thing sensibly. Don't you see, it 
can't be done. I can't be anybody else than myself. 
I don't want to. 

Bennet. My girl, you've got to be. Root and 
branch, inside and outside, before you're fit to be 
Lady Bantock, mother of the Lord Bantocks that are 
to be, you've got to be a changed woman. 

[A pause.) 

Fanny. And it's going to be youi job, from begin- 
ning to end ; yours and the rest of you. What I 
wear and how 1 look is jane's affair. My prayers 
will be for what Aunt Susannah thinks I stand in 
need of. What I eat and drink and say and do you 
will arrange for me. And when you die. Cousin 
Simeon, I suppose, will take your place. And when 
Aunt Susannah dies it will merely be a change to 
Aunt AmeUa. And if Jane ever dies, Honoria will 
have the dressing and the lecturing of me. And so 
on and so on, world without end, for ever and ever, 
Amen. (She has crossed to window. Stands looking 
out.) 

Bennet. Before that time, you will, I shall hope, 
have learnt sufficient sense to be grateful to us. 

(He goes out L.c.) 

Fanny (she turns — walks slowly hack towards the 
tea-table. Halfway she pauses, and leaning over the 
hack of a chair regards in silence for awhile the portrail 
of the first Lady Bantock). I do wish I could tell what 
vrxn - t>re savin*» 



•2 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

(The door opens. The MissES Wetherell come in 
They wear the same frocks as in first Act. They 
pause. Fanny is still gazing at the portrait.) 

Elder. Don't you notice it, dear ? 

Younger. Yes. There really is. 

Elder. It struck me the first day. (To Fanny, 
who has turned.) Your likeness, dear, to Lady 
Constance. It's really quite remarkable. 

Fanny. You think so ? 

Younger. It's your expression — when you are 
serious. 

Fanny (laughs). I must try to be more serious. 

Elder It will come, dear. 

(They take their places side by side on the settee.) 

Younger (to her sister with a pat of the hand) In 
good time. It's so nice to have her young I wonder 
If anybody'll come this afternoon. 

Elder (to Fanny). You see, dear most of the 
county people are still in town. 

Fanny (who is pouring out tea — laughs). I'm not 
grumbling 

Elder. Oh, you'll like them, dear. The Crackle- 
thorpes especially. (To her sister for confirmation ) 
Bella Cracklethorpe is so clever. 

Younger. And the Engells. She'll like the 
Engells. All the Engell girls are so pretty. 

(Fanny brings over two cups of tea) 

Thank you, dear. 

Elder (as she takes her cup — patting Fanny's 
hand). And they'll like you, dear, all of them 

Fanny (returning to table). I hope so. 

Elder. It's wonderful, dear — you won't mind 
my saying it ? — how you've improved. 

(Fanny winces) 
Younger. Of course it was such a change for you 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 63 

And at first (ttirns to her sister) we were a little 
anxious about her, weren't we ? • 

(Fanny has returned to them with the cake basket.) 

Elder [as she takes a piece). Bennet (she ling.ir$ 
on the name as that of an authority) was sapng only 
yesterday that he had great hopes of you. 

Younger (Fanny is handing the basket to her). 
Thank you, dear. 

Elder. I told Vernon. He was so pleased. 

Fanny (her brows contract. She bites her lip. 
Vernon was ? 

Elder. He attaches so much importance to 
Bennet's opinion. 

Fanny. Um. I'm glad I appear to be givmg 
satisfaction. (She has returned to her seat at the table ) 
I suppose when — you go to town, you take the 
Ben nets with you ? 

Elder (surprised at the question). Of course, dear. 

Younger. Vernon didn't wish to go this ysar. 
He thought you would prefer 

Fanny. I was merely thinking of when he dia. 
Do you ever go abroad for the winter ? So many 
people do, nowadays. 

Elder. We tried it once But there was nothing 
for dear Vernon to do You see, he's so fond ol 
hunting. 

Younger (to her sister). And then there will be 
his Parhamentary duties that he will have to take 
ap uow 

j (Fanny rises, ibruptly.) 

Elder. You're not ill, dear f 

Fanny. No. Merely felt I wanted some air 
(She goes to window.) You dont mind, do you 1 
{She flings a casement open.) 

Younger. Not at all, dean. (To her sister.) li 
is a bit close. 



W FANNY AND TITE SERVANT I'HOBLEAL 

Elder. One could really do without fires. 
(Fanny remains by the window.) 

Younger. If it wasn't for the evenings. 
Elder. And then, of course, the cold weathet 
might come again. One can never feel safe until 

(The door opens. Dr. Freemantle enters. An- 
notinced by Bennet. The Old Ladies go to rise. 
He stops them.) 

Dr. F. Don't get up. (He shakes hands with 
them.) How are we this afternoon ? {He shakes his 
head and clicks his tongue.) Really, I think 1 shall 
have to bring an action for damages against Lady 

Bantock. Ever since she 

Elder. Hush! (She points to the window.) Fanny 
Younger. Here's Doctor Freemantle. 

(Fanny comes from the window.) 

Dr. F. (he meets her and takes her hand). Was jusf 
saying, I really think I shall have to claim damages 
against you, Lady Bantock. You've practically 
deprived me of two of my best paying patients. Used 
to be sending for me every other day before you came. 
Now look at them I 

(The Ladies laugh.) 

Dr. F. She's not as bad as we expected. (He pats 
her hand.) Do you remember my description of what 
I thought she was going to be Uke ? (Laughs.) 

Younger. She's a dear girl. 

Elder. Bennet 

Fanny (she has crossed to table — is pouring out iha 
Doctor's tea). Oh, mightn't we have a holiday 
from Bennet ? 

Dr. F. (laughs). Seems to be having a hohday 
himself to-day 

Youngf.r. a hohday ? 

Dr. F. Didn't you know ? Oh. there'*; an awfnllv 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. fN 

•wa.sff^er party on downstairs. They were all troop- 
ing in as I came. 

Younger. I'd no idea he was giving a party. {To 
Fanny.) Did you. dear ? 

Fanny (she hands the Doctor his tea). Yes. It's 
a prayer meeting. The whole family, I expect, has 
been summoned. 

Dr. F. a prayer meeting I Didn't look like it. 

Elder. But why should he be holding a prayer 
meeting ? 

Fanny (she is about to hand him the cake — wearily). 
Oh, one of the family 

Dr. F. And why twelve girls in a van ? 

Younger. In a van ? 

(Fanny pauses — the basket in her hand,) 

Dr. F. One of Hutton's from the Station Hotel— 
with a big poster pinned on the door : " Our Empire." 

(Fanny has put down the basket. She crosses swiftly- ■ 
rings a bell.) 

Younger. What's the matter, dear ? 

Fanny. I'm not quite sure yet. (Her whole 
manner is changed. A look has come into her eyes that 
has not been there before. She speaks in quiet, deter- 
mined tones. She rings again. Then retimiing to table, 
hands the plate again to the Doctor.) Won't you take 
one, doctor. They're not as indigestible as they look. 
(Laughs.) 

Dr. F. (in common with the Old Ladies, he is be- 
wildered at the changed atmosphere. Helps himself.) 
Thank you. I hope I 

(Enter Ernest.) 

^ Fanny (she turns to him. Her tone, for the first 
time, is that of a mistress speaking to her servants). 
Have any visitors called for me this afternoon ? 
Ernest. Vi— visitors— ? 
Fanny. Some ladies. 



M FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM 

Ernest (he is in a slough of doubt and terror) 
L — ladies ? 

Fanny. Yes. Please try and understand the 
English language. Has a party of ladies called here 
this afternoon ? 

Ernest. There have been some ladies. They — 
we 

Fanny. Where are they ? 

Ernest. They — I 

Fanny. Send Bennet up to me. Instantly, 
please. 

(Ernest, only too glad to be off, stumbles out.) 

Younger. My dear 

Fanny. You'll take some more tea, won't you. 
Do you mind, doctor, passing Miss Wetherell's cup. 
And the other one. Thank you. And will you pass 
them the biscuits. You see, I am doing all I can on 
your behalf. {She is talking and laughing — a little 
hysterically — for the purpose of filling time.) Tea and 
hot cake — could anything be worse for them ? 

Dr. F. Well, tea, you know 

Fanny. I know. [Laughs.) You doctors are aD 
alike. You all denounce it, but you all drink it. 
{She hands him the two cups.) That one is for Aunt 
Wetherell of the beautiful hair ; and the other is for 
Aunt Wetherell of the beautiful eyes. {Laughs.) 
It's the only way I can distinguish them. 

(Bennet enters,) 

Oh, Bennet! 

Bennet. You sent for me ? 

Fanny. Yes. I understand some ladies have 
called. 

Bennet. I think your ladyship must have been 
misinformed. I most certainly have seen none. 

Fanny. I have to assume. Bennet, that either 
Dr. Freeman tie or you are telling lies. 

{A silence.) 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT t^KOBLEM. ^ 

Bennet. a party of over-dressed young women, 
claiming to be acquainted with your ladyship, have 
arrived in a van. I am giving them tea in the ser- 
vants' hall, and will see to it that they are sent back 
to the station in ample time to catch their train back 
to town. 

Fanny. Please show them up. They will havt 
their tea here. 

(Both up to this point have spoken with studied quietness. 
Both feel this is a fight to a finish.) 

Bennet (her very quietness is beginning to alarm 
him. It shakes him from his customary perfection of 
manners) . The Lady Bantocks do not as a rule receive 
circus girls in their boudoir. 

Fanny [still with her alarming quietness). Neither 
do they argue with their servants. Please show these 
ladies in. 

Bennet. I warn you 

Fanny. You heard my orders. 

{Her tone has the right ring. The force of habit is too 
strong upon him. He yields — savagely — and goes 
out.) 

(Her whole manner is changed. A load has been lifted 
from her. ^ For the first — even if it be for the last time 
zlso — she is going to be mistress in her own house. She 
turns to the Doctor.) So sorry I had to drag you 
Into it. (With a laugh.) I didn't see how else I was 
going to floor him. 

Dr. F. Splendid I (He grips her hand.) 
Fanny {^he goes to the Old Ladies, who sit beinl- 
dered, terrified). They won't be here for more than a 
few minutes — they can't be. I want you to be nice 
to them — both of you. They are friends of mine. 
(She speaks in a tone of quiet authority — she tarns to 
the Doctor.) They're the girls I used to act with. 
Wc *'.-cnt all over Europe — tvv-elve of us — representing 



«8 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

the British Empire. {With a laugh.) They are play* 
ing in London now. 

Dr. F. To-night ? (He looks at his watch.) 

Fanny {she is busy at the tea-table). Yes. They 
are on the stage at lialf-past nine. You might look 
out their train for them. {She points to the timetable 
on the desk.) I don't suppose they've ever thought 
about how they're going to get back. It's Judy'3 
inspiration, this, the whole thing ; I'd bet upon it. 
{With a laugh.) She always was as mad as a March 
hare. 

Dr. F. {busy with the timetable). They were nice- 
looking girls. 

Fanny. Yes. I think we did the old man credit. 
{With a laugh.) John Bull's daughters, they called 
ns in Paris. 

(Bennet enters.) 
Bennet {announces). Our Empire. 

{^Headed by " England," the Girls, laughing, crowding, 
jostling one another, talking all together, swoop in.) 

England [a lady with a decided Cockney accent). 
Oh, my dear, talk about an afternoon I We 'ave 
'ad a treat getting 'ere. 

(Fanny kisses her.) 

Scot, {they also kiss). Youi boss told us you'd 
gone out. 

Fanny. It was a slight — misunderstanding ; Ben- 
net, take away these things, please. And let me 
have half a dozen bottles of champagne. 

Straits Settleme.nts {a stnall girl at t'r back of 
the crowd — with a shrill voice). Ilooray ! 

Bennet {he is controlling himself with the hutremesi 
difficulty. Within he is a furnace). I'm afraid I have 
mislaid the key of the cellar. 

Fanny {she looks at him). You will please find it— 
quickly. 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 61/ 

(Bennet, again from habit yields. But his con- 
trol almost fails him. He takes up the tray of un- 
needed tea things from the table.) 

(In a lower voice.) I shall want some mor* of all 
these. [Cakes, fruit, sandwiches, etc.) And some 
people to wait. Tell Jane she must come and help, 

(Bennet goes out.) 

(During his passage of arms between mistress and man 
a momentary lull has taken place in the hubbub. As 
he goes out it begins to grow again.) 

England. *E does tease yer, don't *e ? Wanted 
us to 'ave tea — in the kitchen. 

Fanny. Yes. (With a laugh.) These old family 
servants 

Africa (she prides herself on being " quite the lady.'* 
A girl with a " highty-tighty " voice.) Don't talk 
about 'em, dear. We had just such another. [She 
turns to a girl near her.) Oh, they'll run the whole 
show for you if you let 'em. 

England. It was Judy's idea, our giving you 
this little treat. Don't you blime me for it. 

Wales (a small, sprightly girl — with a childish, 
laughing voice). Well, we were all together with 
nothing better to do. They'd called a rehearsal and 
then found they didn't want us — silJy fools. I told 
'em you'd just be tickled to death. 

Fanny [laughing — kisses her). So I am. It was a 
brilliant idea. [By this time she has kissed or shaken 
hands with the whole dozen.) I can't introduce you all 
singly, it would take too long. [She makes a whole- 
sale affair of it.) My aunts, the Misses Wetherell — 
Dr. Freeman tie. 

[The Misses W., suggesting two mice being intr 
to a party of friendly kittens, standing L., cl* 
one another, making an heroic smile, nmr 
iking inaudible.) 



10 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM, 

Dr. F. [who is with them, to comfort them — he has 
fot rid of the timetable, discreetly — smiles). Delighted. 

England. Charmed. 
(Some of the Girls, behind her, murmur similar 

ejaculations.) 

(To Fanny.) Glad we didn't strike one of your busy- 
day s. I say, you're not as dressy as you used to be. 
'Ow are they doin^ you, all right ? 

Fanny. Yes. Oh, yes. 

Canada (" Geriy*' a big, handsome girl — with 4 
loud commanding voice). George gave me your 
message. 

Fanny {puzzled at first). My message ? {Remem- 
bering — laughs.) Oh. That I was Lady Bantock of 
Bantock Hall. Yes. I thought you'd be pleased 

Canada. Was delighted, dear. 

Fanny. So glad. 

Canada. I'd always had the idea that you were 
going to make a mess of your miTiage. 

Fanny. What a funny idea. {B1^'. the laugh thai 
accompanies it is not a merry one.) 

Canada. Wasn't it ? So glad I was wrong. 

Wales. We're all of us looking out for lords in 
disguise, now. Can't you give us a tip, dear, how 
to tell 'em ? 

Scotland. Sukey has broken it off with her boy. 
Found he was mixed up in trade. 

Straits Settlements {as before, unseen at back of 
crowd). No. I didn't. 'Twas his moral character. 

(Enter HONORIA, with glasses on a tray ; Ernest with 
champagne ; Jane with eatables ; Bennet with a 
napkin. (It is a grim procession.) The Girls are 
scattered, laughing, talking : Africa to the Misses W. , 
a couple to Dr. F. These are all near the settee. 
Others are by the window. England, Scotland. 
Wales and Canada are with Fanny, r. c. Tht 
h'ubbith, with the advent of the refreshments, increases 
There is a general movement towards th^ ce^ire.\ 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. T1 

Fanny. Thanks, Rennet. You can clear away a 
corner of the desk. 
England (aside to her.) Go easy with it, dear. 

(Fanny, smiling, nods. She crosses to desk to direct 
operations in a low tone to the Rennets, who take 
her orders in grim silence and lips tight shut.) 

England. Don't forget, girls, that we've got tc 
get back to-night. (Aside to the Doctor, who has 
come forward to help.) Some of *em, you know, ain't 
used to it. 

Dr. F. (nods). Glasses not too full. (He crosses- 
whispers to Fanny.) 

Ireland (a decided young woman). How much 
time have we got ? 

England. Don't ask me. It's Judy's show. 

Wales (mimicking Newte). The return train, 
ladies, leaves Oakham station. (Stops— she is facing 
the clock. She begins to laugh.) 

England. What's the matter ? 

Wales (still laughing). We've got just quarter 
of an hour to catch it. 

{There is a wild rush for the refreshments. Jane is 
swept off her feet. Rennet's tray is upset.) 

England. Quarter — ! Oh, my Gawd I Here, 
tuck up your skirts, girls. We'll have to 

Dr. F. It's all right. You've got plenty of time, 
ladies. 

{The excitement calms.) 

(To England.) There's a train from Norton on the 
branch line at 5.33. Gets you into London at a 
quarter to nine. 

England. You're sure ? 

Dr. F. (he has his watch in his hand) Quite sure. 
The station is only half a mile away. 

En'GLAND. Don't let's miss it. K'^c-p your wale b 
In your hand, there's a deaj. 



7« FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Fanny (her business is — and has been — to moiM 
:{iiietly through the throng, making the Girls welcome, 
talking, laughing with them, directing the servants — 
.'// in a lady's way. On the whole she does it re- 
narkably well. She is offering a plate of fruit to 
[UDY.). You're a nice acting manager, you are. 

(Wales laughs.) 

[She finds herself in front of Ireland — to England.) 
Won't you introduce us. 

England. I beg your pardon, dear. Of course, 
you don't know each other. Miss Tetsworth, our 
new Ireland, Lady Bantock. It is '* Bantock," isn't it, 
dear ? 

Fanny. Quite right. It's a good little pait, isn't 
it? 

Ireland. Well, depends upon what you've been 
used to. 

England. She's got talent, as I tell 'er. But she 
ain't you, dear. It's no good saying she is. 

Fanny {hastening to smooth it over). People always 
speaks so well of us after we're gone. (Laughs.) 
You'll take another glass of champagne. (They an 
near desk.) 

Ireland. Thank you — you made a great success, 
they tell me, in the part. 

Fanny. Oh, there's a deal of fluke about these 
things. You see, I had the advantage 

Dr. F. (with watch still in his hand). I ihinkt 
ladies 

England. Come on, girls. 

{A general movement.) 

Fanny. You must all come again — spend a whola 
day — some Sunday. 

Canada. Remember me to Vernon. 

Fanny. He'll be so sorry to have 

England (cutting in). 'Ope we 'aven't upset you, 
dear. (She is bustling them all up.) 



FANNY AND THE SERVA]^:T PROBLE^^L 73 

Fanny. Not at all. (She is shakhig hands nith 
the (.jiRLS.) It's been so good to see you all again. 
England. 'Urry up, girls, there's dears. 

(They have all passed her,) 

Good-bye, dear. [Kissing her) We do miss yer. 
Fanny. I'm glad you do. 
England. Oh, it ain't the same show. 

{The others are crowding out of the door. She and 
Fanny are quite apart.) 

(She glances round.) No chance of your coming bacV 
to it, I suppose ? (A moment.) Well there, you 
never know, do yer ? Good-bye, dear. {Kisses her 
again.) 

Fanny. Good-bye 1 (She stands k., watching them 
out.) 

(Bennet goes down with them.) 

(Ernest is busy collecting debris. The Misses W. are 
L., their arms round one another. Dr. F. stands l., 
looking at Fanny with an expectant expression. 
Jane and Honoria stand one each side of the table, 
rigid, with set faces. After a moment Fanny goes to 
the open windmv. The voices of the Girls below, 
crowding into the van, come up into the room.) 

(Calling down to them.) Good-bye. You've plenty 
of time. What ? Yes, of course. [Laughs.) All 
right. Good-bye. [She tarns, comes slowly back into 
the room. She looks at Jane and Honoria, where they 
stand rigid.) 

(Honoria makes a movement with her shouldersr-' 
takes a step tow irds the door.) 
Fanny. Honoria 1 

(Honoria stops — slowly turns.) 

You can take away these glasses. Jane will help you 



U FAKN'Y AXD THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 
(Bennet re-efUers.) 

HoNORiA. It's not my place 

Fanny. Your place is to obey my orders. 
Bennet [Ins coolness seems to have deserted hifn. 

His voice is trembling). Obey her ladyship's orders, 

both of you. Leave the rest to me. 

(HoNORiA and Jane busy themselves with Ernesi 
setting the room to rights.) 

Mciy I speak with your ladyship ? 

Fanny. Certainly. 

Bennet. Alone, I mean. 

Fanny. I see no need. 

Bennet [her firmness takes him aback. He expected 
to find her defiance disappear with the cause of it. But 
pig-headed, as all Bennets, her opposition only drives 
him on). Your ladyship is not forgetting the alterna- 
tive ? 

(The Old Ladies have been watching the argument 
much as the babes in the wood might have watched 
the discussion between the two robbers.) 

Elder (in terror). Bennet 1 you're not going to 
give notice ! 

Bennet. What my duty may be, I shall be able 
to decide after I have spoken with her ladyship — alone. 

Younger. Dear 1 You will see him ? 

Fanny. I am sorry. I have not the time. 

Younger. No. Of course. {Appealing to BEt^i^El 
for mercy.) Her ladyship is tired. To-morrow 

Fanny {interrupting). Neither to-morrow— nor 
any other day. 

(Vernon enters, followed by Newte.) 

{She advances to meet them.) You've just missed some 

old friends of yours. {She shake hands with Newte.) 

Vprnon. So it seems. We were hoping to havp 



FAirar A^TD THE SKRVANT PROBLEM 75 

been in linie. {To Newte.) The niare came along 
pretty slick, didn't she ? 

Bennet {he has remained with his look fixed all thd 
time on Fanny). May I speak with y(>ui lonlship a 
moment — in priv^ate ? 

Vernon. Now ? 

Bennet. It is a matter that needs to be settled, 
now. {It is the tone of respectful aiUhority he has always 
u-^ed towards the lad.) 

Vernon. Well, if it's as pressing as all that I 
suppose you must. {He makes a movement towards 
the door R. — to Newte.) Shan't be long. 

Fanny (c). One moment. 

{Vernon stops.) 

I may be able to render the interview needless. Who 
is mistress ot this house ? 

Vernon (r.). Who is mistress ? 

Fanny. Who is mistress of your house ? 

Vernon. Why you are, of course. 

Fanny. Thank you. {She turns to B^k'S'EI, who 
has remained L.) PJease tell Mrs. Bennet I want her,. 

Bennet. I think if your lordship 

Fanny. At once. 

[She is looking at him. He struggles — look'^ at Vernon 
But Vernon is evidently inclined to support Fanny. 
Bennet goes out.) 

(Fanny crosses and seats herself at the desk. She takes 
from a drawer some yicatly-folded papers. Sh^ 
busies herself with figures.) 

Vernon {he crosses to his Adnts). Wliatever's th«» 
matter ? 

Elder. She is excited. She has had a very trying 
time. 

Younger. Bennet didn't like the idea of her 
receiving them. 

Newte. It was thai minx Tudv's doine^. They'U 



79 FANNY AND TIIE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

have the rough side of my tmig^e when I get back— 
all of them. 

Vernon. Wliat does she want with Mrs. Bennet ? 

Elder. I can't think. 

(Vernon and the Misses W. are standing in a group 
together. Ne wte, belcm' them, a Utile apart. Dr. F. t.? 
by himself (l.), an interested spectator, waiting develop- 
ments. Jane, Honoria a7\d Ernest are still busy 
abotU the room.) 

(Newte, suddenly the whole thing comes to him. Hts 
hands go up and his mouih opens. He turns. Mrs. 
Bennet, /o/Zoi^'eioy Bennet. ^7z/dr. Newte sees ii 
is too late. Hts hands 7nake a gesture of despair. 
He shrugs his shoulders. Moves away farther L. 
Dr. F. has been watching. He smiles grimly.) 

Mrs. B. (l.) Your lad\^ship sent for me ? 

Fanny. Yes. [She half turns — holds out a paper.) 
This wages sheet is quite correct, I take it ? It is 
your own. 

Mrs. B. [she has crossed — she takes it). Quite 
correct. 

Fanny {she tears out a cheque she has written-r- 
hands it to Mrs. B.), You will find there two months* 
wages for the entire family. I have made it out in a 
lump sum payable to your husband. The other 
month is in Heu of notice. 

{A silence. The thing strikes them all dumb.) 

{She puts the cheque-book back and closes the drawei 
She rises.) I'm sorry. There's been a mir.undei- 
standing. It's time that it ended. It has been mv 
own fault. {She is c. — to Vernon.) I deceived yor 

about my family 

Newth. Tf there's been any deceit 

Fanny {ctUs him short). My scene, please, George. 

(Newte, knowing her, shrugs his shoulders and return? 
again in sileiu:e.) 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 77 

1 have no relations outside this country that I know 
of. My uncle is Martin Bennet, your butler. Mn. 
Bennet is my aunt. 

(Bennet has remained L. Mrs. B. is R. Jane, 
HoNORiA and Ernest are just above her R.) 

I'm not ashamed of them. If they'd had as much 
respect for me as I have for them, tliis trouble would 
not have arisen. We don't get on together, that's 
all. And this seems to me the only way out. As I 
said before, I'm soriy. 

[Again a silence. Nobody knows what to say.) 

Vernon [recovering speech) . But why did j^ou ? 

Fanny [her control gives way. She breaks out). 
Oh, because I've been a fool. It's the explanation of 
most people's muddles, I expect, if they only knew it. 
Don't talk tome, anybody. I've got nothing more to 
say. [To Bennet.) I'm sorry. You wouldn't give 
me a chance. I'd have met you half way. (To 
Mrs. B.) I'm sorry. Don't be too hard on me. It 
won't mean much trouble to you. Good servants 
don't go begging. You can depend upon me for a 
character. [To Jane.) You'll do much better for 
yourselves elsewhere. (To Honoria.) Don't let that 
pretty face of yours ever get you into trouble. [To 
Ernest.) Good-bye, Ernest. " We were always pals, 
weren't we ? Good-bye. [She kisses him. It has 
all been the work of a moment. She comes down again.) 
Don't think me rude, but I'd hke to be alone. We 
can talk calmly about it all to-morrow morning. [To 
the Misses W.) I'm so awfully sony. I wish I 
could have seen any other way out. [The tears ar$ 
9lr earning from her eyes. To Vernon.) Take them 
all away, won't you, dear. We'll talk about it all 
to-morrow. I'll feel gooder. [She kisses him. To 
Dr. F.) Take them all away. Tell him it wasn't all 
my fault. {To Newte.) You'll have to stop the 



78 FANNY AKD THE SERVANT PIIOBLEM. 

night. There are no more trams. I'U see you In 

the morning. Good-night. 

(Ben NET has collected his troop. Leads them away. 
Dr. F., kindly and help fid, takes off Vernon and the 
Two Old Ladies.) 

Newte [he grips her hand, and speaks in hig 
%hort, growling way). Good-night, old girl. 

{He follows the others out.) 

(Fanny crosses towards the windows. Her chief busi' 

ness is dabbing her eyes. The door closes with m 
click. She turns. She is R. C. She puts her hand^ 
kerchief away. She looks at the portrait of Constance^ 
first Lady Bantock.) 

Fanny. I belie v«^ its what yoa've been tellia§ 
IBS to do, ail the time. 



CorasffASi. 



ACT IV 

Scene. — The same. The blinds are down. Th: ita{^6 
dark. Ashes fill the grate. 

Time. — Early morning. 

(The door opens softly. Newte steals in. Fie fumbles 
his way across to the windows, drawi> the blinds. The 
morning sun streams in. He listens — no on-e- seems 
to be stirring. He goes otU, returns immediately 
with a btHler\ tray, containing all things necessary 
for a breakfast and the lighting of a fire. He places 
tiie tray on table, throws his coat over a chair, and 
is on his knees busy lighting the fire, when enler the 
Misses VVetherell, clad in dressing-gowns and 
caps, yet still they continue to look sweet. They 
also creep in, hand in hand, the crouching Newte 
f.v hidden by a hanging fire screen. They creep for- 
ward till the coat hanging over the chair catches their 
eye. They are staring at it as Robinson Crusoe 
might at the footprint, when Newte rises suddenly 
and turns. The Misses Wetherell give a sup- 
pressed scream, and are preparing for flight.) 

Newte (he stays them). No call to run away, 
ladies. When a man's travelled — as I have — across 
Americii, in a sleeping car, with a comic opera troop 
— there's j^)t much left for him to know — you want 
your breaiviast I {He wheedles them to the table.) 
We'll be able to talk cosily — before anybody else 
comes. 

(They yield themselves. He has a way with him,) 

Elder. We haven't slept all night. 

(Newte answers with a sympathetic gesttirt. He U 
busy getting ready the breakfast,) 



'^0 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Younger. , There's something we want to tell deaf 
Vernon — before he says an>i:hing to Fanny. 

Elder. It's something very important. 

Newte. We'll ha\e a cup of tea first — to steady 
)iir nerves. 

Younger. It's so important that we should tell 
liim before he sees Fanny, 

Newte. We'll see to it. [He tnakes tlw. Ua ) 1 
fancy they're botii asleep at present. 

Elder. Poor boy ! 

Younger. If she only hadn't 

{Dr. Freem.\ntle has entered) 

Dr. F. I thought I heard somebody stirring 

Newte. Kush ! (He indicates doors R. and L.) 
Younger (turning and greeting him). It was so 
kind of you not to leave us last night. 
Elder. We were so upset. 

(Dr. F. pats their hands.) 

Younger. We hope you slept all right. 
Dr. F. Excellently. Shall be glad of a shave, 
that's all. (Laughs.) 

(Both he and Newte suggest the want of one.) 

Newte (mho has been officiating). Help yourself 
to milk and sugar. 

Dr. F. (who has seated himself). Have the Bennets 
gone ? 

Newte. Well, they had their notice all right. 
(Laughs.) 

Younger (they have begun to cry). It has been 
80 wrong and foolish of us. We have never learnt to 
do an3.i:hing for ourselves. 

Elder. We don't even know where our things 
are. 

Dr. F. They can't all have gone — the ul.ule 
twenty-three of them, at a cou}>Ie of hours' notice. 
(To Newte.) Haven't st^en any of them, have you ? 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 8! 

Newte. No sign of any of them dowri'^.tiurs. 

Dr F. Oh, they must be still here. Not up. I 
don't suppose. It isn't seven o'clock yet. 

Younger. But they have all been discharged. We 
can't ask them to do anythmg. 

Elder [to her Sister). And the Grinstones are 
U)imng to lunch with the new curate. Venioa asked 
them on Sunday. 

Younger. Perhaps there's something cold. 

Elder. Vernon so dislikes a cold lunch. 

Dr. F. (to Newte). Were you able to get hold of 
Vernon last night ? 

Newte (shrugs shoulders). Waited up till he came 
In about two o'clock. Merely answered that he wasn 't 
in a talkative mood — ^brushed passed me and locked 
himself in. 

Dr. F. He wouldn't say anything to me either. 
Rather a bad sign when he won't talk. 

Newtb. What's he likely to do ? 

Dr. F. Don't know. Of course it will be all over 
the country. 

Younger. And dear Vernon is so sensitive. 

Dr. F. It had to come — the misfortune is 

Newte. The misfortune is that people won't keep 
to their own line of business. Why did he want to 
come fooling around her ? She was doing well for 
herself. She could have married a man who would 
have thought more of her than all the damn fools in 
the county put together. Why couldn't he have left 
her alone ? 

Dr. F. (he is sitting head of table, between Newte 
071 his right, and the Misses W. on his left. He lays 
his hand on Newte's sleeve — with a smile). I'm 
sure you can forgive a man — with eyes and ears in 
his head — for having fallen in love with her. 

Newte. Then why doesn't he stand by her ? 
What if her uncle is a butler ? If he wasn't a fool, 
he'd be thanking his stars that 'twas anytliing half at 
respectable 



SS FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM, 

Dr. F. I'm not defending him — we're not sure yet 
that he needs any defence. He has married a clever, 
charming girl of — as you say — a better family than 
he'd any right to expect. The misfortune is, that — 
by a curious bit of iU-luck — it happens to be his own 
butler. 

Newte. If she takes my advice, she'll return to 
the stage. No sense stopping where you're not 
wanted. 

Younger. But how can she ? 

Elper. You see they're married I 

Dr. F. {to change the subject). You'll take an egg ? 

(Newte has been boiling some. He has fust served 
them.) 

Elder (rejecting i(). Thank you. 
Younger. We're not feeling hungry. 
Elder. He was so fond of her. 
Younger. She was so pretty. 
Elder. And so thoughtful. 
Younger. One would never have known she was 
an actress. 
Elder. If only she hadn't 

(Bennet has entered. Newte is at fireplace. The 
Old Ladies have their backs to the door. Dr. F., 
who is pouring out tea, is the first to see him. He puts 
down the teapot, staring. The Old Ladies look 
round. A silence. Newte turns. Bennet is 
again the perfect butler. Yesterday would seem to 
have been wiped out of his memory.) 

Bennet. Good-morning. Miss Wetherell. Good- 
morning, Miss Edith. (To the Two Men). Good- 
morning. I was not aware that breakfast was required 
to be an}'^ earher than usual, or I should have had it 
ready. 

Younger. We are sure you would, Bennet. But 
you see, under the circumstances, we — ^we hardly 
Uked to trouble you. 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. M 

Bennet (hf^ goes nbnut the room, piittin^^ things to 
vi^Jits. He has rufrg the bell. Some dead [lowers hs 
packs on to Nftwte's tray, the water he pours into 
Newte's slop-basin, etc., etc.) My duty, Miss Edith, 
I have never felt to be a trouble to me. 

Elder. We know, Bennet. You have always 
been so conscientious. But, oi course, after what's 
happened 

(They are on the verge of tears again.) 

Bennet {he is at right hand of table piling up the 
breakfast things). Keziah requested me to apologize 
to you for not having heard your bell this morning. 
She will be ready to wait upon you in a very few 
minutes. (To the Doctor.) You will find shaving 
materials, doctor, on your dressing-table. 

Dr. F. Oh. thank you. 

(Ernest has entered, with some wood, he is going towards 
the fire.) 

Bennet [to Ernest). Leave the fire for the pret- 
ent. Take away this tray. 

(Ernest takes up the tray, and with it goes out.) 

{Speaking over the heads of the Misses W. to Newte.) 
Breakfast will be ready in the morning-room, in a 
quarter of an hour. 

Newte {at first puzzled, then indignant, now breaks 
out. He has come down to c). What's the Uttle game 
on here — eh ? Yesterday afternoon you were givep 
the sack — by your mistress, Lady Bantock, with 9 
month's wages in lieu of notice — not an hour before 
you deserved it. What do you mean — going on lik^ 
this — as if nothing had happened ? {He comes tc 
the table between Dr. F. and the Misses W.) Is Lady 
Bantock to be ignored in this house as if she didn't 
exist — or is she not ? {He brings his fist doivn on thi 
table. He has been shouting rather than speaking,) 
I want this tiling settled 1 



84 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Ben NET. Your bath. Mr. Newte, is quite ready. 
Newte (as soon as he can recover sp^^ch). Nevei 
you mind my bath, I want 

(Vernon enters r. He is pale, heavy-eyed, short in 
his manner, listless.) 

Vernon. Good-morning — everybody. Can I hav^ 
some breakfast, Bennet ? 

Bennet. In about ten minutes ; I will bring it up 
here: 

{He collects the kettle from the fire as he passes, and goo. 
out.) 
Vernon. Thank you. 

[He responds mechanically to the kisses of his Two 
Aunts, who have risen and come to him.) 

Newte. Can I have a word with you ? 

Vernon. A little later on, if you don't mind, Mr. 
Newte. [He passes him.) 

Newte (he is about to speak, changes his mind). All 
right, go your own way. 

(Newte goes out.) 

Dr. F. " Remember," says Marcus Aurelius- 



Vernon. Yes— good old sort, Marcus Aurelius. 
(He moves away likewise from the Doctor. Sits 
listlessly, R. c.) 

(Dr. F. stands a moment, smiles resignedly, looks at thi 
Misses W., shrugs his shoulders, and closing the doof 
after him goes otct.) 

[TJie Misses W. whisper together — look round cauti- 
ously, steal up behind him, encouraging one another.) 

Elder. She's so young. 
Younger. And so adaptable. 
Vernon (does not turn round — takes his face in hi* 
hands). All, it was the deception. 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 85 

Younger (she puts her old thin hand on his shoul- 
der). What would you have done, dear, if she had 
told you — at first ? 

Vernon (he looks round, takes her hand in his — 
answers a little brokenly), I don't know. 
(The Elder is the other side of him. Her Sister 

makes a sign to her behind him. She screws her 

courage up.) 

Elder. There's something we wanted to tell you. 
(He looks at her. They look across at each other.) 
The first Lady Bantock, your great grandmamma 

Younger. Sl'^e danced with George III. 

Elder. She was a butcher's daughter. 

Younger. He was quite a little butcher. 

Elder. Of course, as a rule, dear, we never men- 
tion it. 

Younger. We felt you ought to know. 
(They take each other's hands, on tip-toe, they steal 

out. They close the door softly behind them.) 
(Vernon rises, takes a few steps towards the ivin- 

dow. Turns — glances round at the portrait — 

draws nearer to it. With his hands in his pockets, 

stops dead in front of it, contemplates it in silence. 

A sound comes from Fanny's room. He listens, 

moves away r., still with his hands in his pockets. 

The door opens (l.). Fanny enters. She is 

dressed for going out. She stands for a moment, 

the door in her hand. Vernon turns. She closes 

the door and comes forward.) 

Vernon (r.)- Good-morning. 

Fanny (l.). Good-morning — George stayed the 
night, didn't he? 

Vernon. Yes. He's downstairs now. 

Fanny. He won't be going for a little while? 

Vernon. Can't till the ten o'clock train. Have 
you had breakfast? 



W FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Fanny. I — I've had something to eat — yes. 
{She sits lower end of the settee — with a smile.) I'm 
sorry for what I did last night — although they did 
deser\'e it. (Laughs.) I suppose it's a matter that 
can easily be put right again. 

Vernon [he is standing r. c.) You have no objec- 
tion to their staying ? 

Fanny Wiy should I ? 

Vernon [he seats himself over against her). WTiat 
do you mean ? 

Fanny. Tliere's only one hope of righting a 
mistake — and that is going back to the point from 
where one went wrong — and that was our maivage. 

(A moment.) 

Vernon. We haven't given it a very long trial 

Fan'NY [with an odd smile). It went to pieces at 
the first — I was in trouble all last night ; you must 
have known it. You left me alone. 

Vernon. Jane told me you had locked yourself in. 

Fanny. You never tried the door for yourself, 
dear. [She rises, pretends to rearrange something on 
the mantelpiece — any excuse to turn away her face for a 
moment. She turns to him again, smiling.) It was a 
mistake, the whole thing. You were partly to blame. 
You were such a nice boy — I " fancied " you — to use 
George's words. [She laughs.) And when a woman 
wants a thing she is apt to be a bit unsciupulous about 
how she gets it. (She moves about the mom, touching 
the flowers, rearranging a cushion, a vase.) T didn't 
invent tlie bishop, that was George's embroidery. 
(Another laugh.) But, of course. I ought to have told 
you everything myself. I ought not to have wanted 
a man to whom it would have made one atom of differ- 
ence whether my cousins wcjire scu!l«-ry-maids or not 
Somehow. I felt that to you it might. 

(Vernon winces.) 
It's natural enough Yon hr^' '^ i h^y. oosftion tt 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. VI 

maintain. I didn't know you were a lord — that was 
your doing. George did find it out, but he never told 
me ; least of all, that you were Lord Bantock — or you 
may be pretty sure I should have come out with the 
truth, if only for my own sake. It hasn't been any 
joke for me, coming back here. 

Vernon. Yes. I can see they've been making 
things pretty hard for you. 

Fanny, Oh. they thought they were doing their 
duty. (She comes up behind him, puts her hands on 
his shoulders.) I want you to take them all back 
again. I want to feel I have made as Uttle commo- 
tion in your life as possible. It was just a Uttle mistake 
— and everybody will say how fortunate it was that 
she took herself off so soon with that — and you will 
marry somebody belonging to your own class. And 
those are the only sensible marriages there are> 

Vernon. Have you done talking ? 

Fanny. Yesl Yes, I think that's all. 

Vernon. Then perhaps you'll let mr. get in a 
word. You think me a snob ? 

(Fanny makes a movement,) 

As a matter of fact, I am. 

Fanny [she has moved away R,). No. that's not 
fair. You wouldn't have married a girl off the 
music-hall stage. 

Vernon. Niece of a bishop — cousin to a judge. 
Whether I believed it or not. doesn't matter. The sham 
that isn't likely to be found out is as good as the truth 
to a snob. If he had told me your uncle was a butler 
I should have hesitated— that's where the mistake 
began. We'll go back to that. Won't you sit down ? 

(Fanny sits by the desk.) 

{ want you to stop. There'll be no mistake this time. 
I'm asking my butler's niece to do me the honour tP 
b« my wife. 

Fanny. That's kind of yoit 



»8 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 

Vernon. Oh. I'm not thinking of you. I'm think- 
ing of myself. I want you. I teU in love with you 
because you were pretty and charming. There*! 
something else a man wants in his wife besides that. 
I've found it. (He jumps up, goes ever to her. Brush- 
ing aside thivgs in his way. he sits on the desk a little 
below her.) I 'm not claiming it as a right ; you can go 
if you like. You can earn your own Uving, I know. 
But you shan't have anybody else. You'll be Lady 
Bantock and nobody else — as long as I live. {He has 
grown quite savage.) 

Fanny [she bites her lip to keep back the stnile thai 
wants to come). That cuts both ways, you know. 

Vernon, / don't want anybody else. 

Fanny [she stretches out her hand and lays it on 
his). Won't it be too hard for you ? You'll hav€ 
to tell them all — your friends — e\'erybody. 

Vernon. They've got to be told in any case. II 
you are here, for them to see, they'll be able to under- 
stand — those that have got any sense. 

(Ben net enters with breakfast for two on a tray. Hi 

places it on table.) 

Fanny {she has risen, she goes over to h%m,) Good- 
morning, uncle. 

(She puts up her face. He stares— shf persists. 
Bennet kisses her.) 

Lord Bantock — [she looks at Vernon) — has a request 
to make to you. He wishes me to remain here as his 
wife. I am willing to do so, provided you give your 
consent. 

Vernon. Quite right, Bennet. I ought to have 
asked for it before. I apologize — vdU you give your 
consent to my marriage with your niece ? 

Fanny (she stays him). One minute. You under- 
stand what it means. From the moment you give it 
■ — if you do give it — I shall be Lady Bantock — youi 
mistre££ 



FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 89 

Bevnet. My dear Fanny ! My dear Vernon I 
I speak, for the first and last time, as your uncle. I 
am an old-fashioned person, and my ideus. I have 
been told, are those of my class. But observation has 
im])ressed it upon me that success in any scheme 
depends upon each person being ht for their place. 
Yesterday, in the interests of you both, I should have 
refused my consent. To-day, I give it with pleasure, 
feeling sure I am handing over to Lord Bantock a wife 
in every way fit for her position. (He kisses her.) 

(Bennet gives her to Vernon, who grips his hand. 
He returns to the table.) 

Breakfast, your ladysliip, is quite ready. 

[THrv take their places at the tahlf. Fanny Uikf.h » ■ 
kiv k^i, bSNNEl takes o^ IJie cv^n.) 



*L\p:frthm 



roST PUEUSHIfiP. 

CHRISTOPHER, JUNIOR 

A Comedy in 4 Acts. By Madeleine Lucette Ryley. Modem ca» 
Rime. Time, 2 J hours. Tiiree interior scenes; 8 males, 4 females, 
Christopher Jedbm-y, Jr., having accidentally placed himself in an 
anfortunate position with a lady in the West Indies, is forced tc 
oaarry her without seeing her. He returns to England. His fathei 
Bnds out about the marriage, quarrels with him, and turns him out 
ledbury, Jr., goes to India as a clerk in his father's office, theiti 
tiisco^ ers defalcations by the manager, and falls in love with £)or9 
Hedway. He is reconciled to his father, and Dora turns out to l>e 
' as wife. Highly recommended for amateurs. 

Price, 60 Cents. 

MICE AND MEN 

A Romantic Comedy. Four Acts. By Madeleine Lucette Rylej 
Costume about 1786. Time, 2 hours, 30 minutes. Three interioi^ 
one exterior scene; 7 males, 5 females. Mark Embury, a man of ove* 
forty, is of opinion that the perfect wife must be educated from a 
tftate of ignorance and simplicity to the ideal of the man she is about 
to marry. He accordingly proceeds to impart his views to a giri 
fresh from the Foundling. His young nephew comes on the scene, 
and Embury realizes that nature intended the young to mate with 
the young. This beautiful costume comedy can be played by all 
females, and is highly recommended for use by girls' schools and 
colleges. This play was originally produced by Mr. Charles Froh* 
(man with Miss Annie RusseU in the leading role. 

Price, 60 Cents. 



SNUG LITTLE KINGDOM 

A Comedy in 3 Acts. By Mark Ambient. Modem costume 
Time, 2 J hours. One interior scene throughout; 3 males, 4 females. 
Bernard Gray, a composer of music, Uves in a garret in Soho. Undei 
his charge is a young girl in the ballet, whose mother had died when 
she was young. Hubert Gray, the brother of Bernard, rescues a 
wealthy old gentleman from an accident, the lattei* c^ventuallx turof 
Mg out to be the girl's father. 

Price. 60 Cenjbk 



THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, 6 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt Mary," 
"Jack," her lively nephew; "Lucinda," a New England, ancient maid of all work; 
"Jack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" loves; "Joshua," Aunt Mary's hired 
man, etc. 

"Aunt Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on tour for over 
two years, and it is sure to be a big success wherever produced. We strongly 
recommend it. Price, 60 Cents 

MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of 
"The Tailor-Made Man." 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. Cos- 
tumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

Mr. Smith chose foi* his initial comedy the complications arising from the 
endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude peopled by hyphenated 
names— a theme permitting innumerable complications, according to the spirit of 
the writer. 

This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. Fiske 
with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. 

MRS. TEMPLETS TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and William 
Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands throughout the 
three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2^ hours. 

"Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there is an abund- 
ance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any element of offence. As 
noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we 
practice to deceive!" 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time the curtain 
rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and furious. A very exceptional 
farce. Price, 60 Cents. 

THE NEW CO-ED. 

A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of "Tempest and 
Sunshine," etc. Characters^ 4 males, 7 females, though any number of 
boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One interior 
and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one interior scene. 
Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. 

The theme of this play is the coming of a new student to the college, her 
reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. 

There are three especially good girls' parts, Letty, Madge and Estelle, but 
the others have plenty to do. "Punch" Doolittle and George Washington Watts, 
a gentleman of color, are two particularly good comedy characters. We can 
Strongly recommend "The New Co-Ed" to high schools and amateurs. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH. 28-30 West 38th Street, New York Qty 

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